


The Apple Tree

by GlasyaLabolas



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 46,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10376538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlasyaLabolas/pseuds/GlasyaLabolas
Summary: Shizuo gets to know the child he never knew he had with Izaya.





	1. Honeycrisp

Izaya Orihara gets a call on the disposable phone he keeps in the deepest depths of his desk’s bottom drawer. It hasn’t rang it what feels like years, and it surely must be. The specially assigned ringtone triggers an automatic churning in his gut. The work on his computer is instantly forgotten to get to the cell in time to pick-up.

 

“Yes,” he answers smoothly despite the race his heart thinks it’s suddenly involved in.

 

“He’s in the hospital.” A woman’s voice says evenly, unconcerned. Izaya’s inhale of breath is picked up over the speaker.

 

“Elaborate,” he demands after a beat of silence. He quickly saves the documents on screen in a rush to shut down the computer and get out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Shizuo, hey!” Said blond looks away from his late lunch at the call.

 

“Kadota! Come! Have sushi!”

 

“Not right now, Simon, thanks.” Kyohei waves him off as he enters, heading straight to his friend and his coworker at the bar.

 

“What’s up?” Shizuo asks as Kadota nods greetings at Tom, who returns the gesture as he continues eating.

 

“There’s been this… interesting story on the Dollars forums today. I think it might involve you, man. If it doesn’t, you might wanna be involved.”

 

Shizuo stares at the remainder of his meal with a hard gaze as he thinks. He trusts Kadota, he was clearly searching for him to tell him about whatever is or might be going on, he could at least hear him out even if he’s not part of Dollars anymore. “Alright.”

 

“There’s a kid in the hospital.” He starts, Shizuo glares down at his food. “Ripped an entire metal support pole off of a jungle gym and threw it across the playground.”

 

The blond’s eyes widen, head turning to watch his friend speak just to be sure he’s hearing him correctly. Tom turns slightly, interested himself.

 

“There were pictures of the aftermath on the thread, I even had Togusa drive me to the location to see for myself. It’s legit, or at least looks it.”

 

“You think there’s a kid out there with the same problem as me?” Shizuo’s voice is quiet.

 

“Actually… More than that. There were pictures of the kid up as well. I managed to save a copy before the Mods took it all down to respect his privacy.” Kadota goes through his phone for the image. “I mean, just _look_ at this kid.”

 

It’s a school photo. Elementary, based on the uniform. Their face still has the roundness of baby-fat, probably around age eight or nine if Shizuo had to guess. The kid’s not glaring and doesn’t look bored, like Shizuo remembers himself in his, they look _happy_. Bright smile and shining eyes. His heart clenches for the kid. He wonders if their home is as normal or as well-adjusted as his was, if their family will understand what they’re going through or if… Shit, Kadota was right, he does want to get involved. He’s no role-model, but if he had had an adult in his life that understood what he was going through at the time, things might’ve been easier for him. Or if he had just any other human being he wouldn’t’ve been scared to touch so he hadn’t felt so alone.

 

Next to him, Tom chokes on his tea. “Shizuo, that kid’s the spitting image of you.”

 

“What?” Shizuo looks harder, somehow missing it on his first scan of the picture. The brown mop of hair, the honey brown eyes. Maybe already seeing himself in the kid from sharing the same experience blinded him a bit.

 

“I’ve never seen Shizuo without his hair dyed, or really any younger photos at all, but I thought so too.”

 

Shizuo takes the phone from his friend’s hand, almost cradling it as he continues to stare at the image. He’s slept with a couple women, it’s possible in theory that the kid’s his. He’s been smart, used protection and all that, but with the long list of things he can break, he wouldn’t be too shocked to add condoms to it.

 

“Did they say which hospital? Or give their name?”

 

Kadota nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dragging you all down into Dad!Shizuo AU Hell with me and you're gonna enjoy Trans!Izaya whether you like it or not. (Which you probably do if you're reading this.)
> 
> As always, comments and feedback of any kind are greatly appreciated. Especially criticism or to point out errors, since I'm without a beta reader and doing my own editing. I'll be updating the tags of the fic as I go, if anyone has tag recommendations for making this fic more accessible or to refine the warnings, please let me know in a comment. Thank you for reading!


	2. Sapling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Shizuo's past and present; there's a little boy in the hospital.

Shizuo smokes three cigarettes on his way to the hospital and three more outside of it. He has no idea what he’s going to do or say to the kid when he goes inside. Are they even going to be safe around him? Same strength or not, he’s got more years on the kid. He wouldn’t even have to snap at the kid (and he’d _never_ ), they’d just have to be caught in the crossfire. Then there’s the people that are always trying to start shit with him, would his appearance put the kid at risk for kidnapping or whatever? Shizuo’s getting a headache just thinking about the cons against the pros. What the fuck were the cons against the most obvious pro of seeing (what was likely) his own son?!

 

His hand clenches, squeezing the handle of the plastic bag tighter. Shizuo wanted to give the kid _something_ , if not to lift their spirits during a terrible time than at least to maybe make his sudden appearance easier on them in some way. A single school photo wasn’t enough to discern what the kid might like, so he bought something he figured no child would ever turn down: chocolates. In hindsight, it probably made him seem creepy.

 

Some of the staff panic amongst themselves when the blond walks in. A nurse visibly sighs in relief when he asks for a patient’s room number. Shizuo’s still a bit too caught up in his own head to entirely notice.

 

He murmurs the number a few times to himself for memorization sake as he heads to the elevators. He’s had to talk to himself a lot on the trip over. There was no way he was going to be able to say his (probably) son’s name without practice. The L in their horribly English name an unbreakable wall in Shizuo Heiwajima’s path. It also serves as a welcomed distraction as he walks through the halls that’d otherwise remind him of the worst parts of his childhood. There was nothing he could to do up until this point, but he feels like trash anyway. Like a deadbeat parent you’d hear gossip about. As a kid, he had both of his parents, Kasuka, and even _Shinra_ to visit him. Shizuo hopes the kid at least has had a good mother.

 

As the blond approaches the correct room, he notices the woman outside of the door. She’s not dressed like a doctor, in casual clothes as if she was called from home. Her long dark hair tied back into a ponytail with a ribbon. Shizuo doesn’t recognize her _at all_. Not that he honestly expected to remember _any_ of his one-night stands to begin with, though. She turns and looks straight at him when she notices his presence.

 

“Shizuo Heiwajima, correct?”

 

“Yeah.” He nods, getting a better look at her soft, motherly face. Shit, he’ll have to call his parents and Kasuka after this.

 

“I’ve been expecting you.”

 

“You have?” Shizuo’s eyes and tone suspicious.

 

“After all the fuss on the Dollars forum earlier, I figured you might show up eventually.”

 

“Are you his… mother?”

 

“Adoptive.” She answers calmly. Shizuo’s relieved, if only slightly. Someone wanted the kid, and he’s glad for that, but he still wonders how long they were in the system. If the kid was at least seven, his mother would’ve still been too young, just as Shizuo was. He can’t fault a young woman for giving up the child she was aware that she couldn’t properly take care of, but he’s still beyond furious for never being told or given a say or opportunity to be involved. All of the important milestones like first words and first steps he’ll never get to experience, not even allowed to chip in for the clothes or the food that his own flesh and blood would need. He feels better not knowing her, fearful of what his emotions might drive him to say or do.

 

“Mari Harusawa.”

 

“Ah,” Shizuo nods. “...You think he’s mine too?”

 

“Oh, I’m certain of it.” She says quickly enough to make Shizuo blink. “I’ll give you consent for the DNA test, if you’d like.”

 

“Thank you,” he says after a moment of thinking about it. He’s going to be there for the kid regardless, he knows, but the test confirming it would help ease any and all possible doubts he or anyone might have while also working as legal standing. Shizuo’s not so heartless to rip the kid away from a home that loves and cares for them, blood related or not, but he’ll be damned if _anyone_ is gonna stop him from at least coming to _look_ at his kid. With the exception of the child themselves not wanting him around.

 

Mari’s posture is relaxed and she’s standing out of the way of the door, Shizuo has no reason to think she won’t let him go inside, especially with how forward she’s been with information. He asks anyway, to be sure, with an aborted gesture towards the door.

 

“You’re okay with--”

 

“There’s nothing I can do to stop you, Heiwajima-san. In the sense that you’re his father and that I’d be physically unable to. If Delic wants you to be around him… Let’s just say that he has a track record of running away to do whatever he wants.”

 

Shizuo frowns, unsure if he should be worried about the implications of that or if he should be happy that the kid’s willful.

 

“Does he know he’s adopted?”

 

“Yes,” she affirms, taking a seat in one of the chairs by the door. Her hands brush off her clothes after sitting, Shizuo notices by the lack of a ring that she’s not married.

 

Shizuo understands her body language enough and turns towards the room. The bag in his hand makes a couple of noisy crinkles. It isn’t until his hesitation to enter that he actually looks at the doctor’s clipboard by the room number. He skims all of the dislocations and fractures listed with a profound frown.

 

“How is he?”

 

“They gave him some minor pain medication. Other than that, fine, but he’ll probably be very depressed until he heals enough to remove the casts and splints. Delic’s always far more upset when he breaks the bones in his hands. You could help him a lot right now by keeping him busy.”

 

The blond nods, takes a breath, and turns the handle delicately. The private room is one of the nicer ones, judging by what he can see of the bathroom, wall-mounted television, and cozy looking seats by the wide windows. Shizuo wonders how a single mother can afford it.

 

When he gets the full view of the bed, Shizuo freezes. His heart suddenly feels viced, and his eyes widen, looking at the scene that feels ripped from his own memory.

 

The little boy with medium brown hair and honey brown eyes, with all ten of his fingers in splints, both wrists in casts, his right arm in a sling, and his torso in a brace to keep him still, lays in the hospital bed in front of Shizuo. The bed’s almost thrice the kid’s size and makes him appear all the smaller.

 

Delic’s head turns towards his visitor, his nose crinkling. “I don’t know you.”

 

Shizuo has to swallow before responding. “Yeah, uh… My name is Shizuo Heiwajima.”

 

“Are you a friend of Miss Mari’s?” Shizuo blinks dumbly. He doesn’t call her Mom?

 

“No, I…” Shit, there was going to be no easy way to talk about this, much less broach the subject. “I heard about what you did. At the playground. I’m… the same way.”

 

“A freak?” Delic says, curious and almost offhandedly.

 

Shizuo snaps out of his awkward despondence and looks at Delic with a hard, determined gaze. “You’re not a freak!”

 

Delic’s lips press together as his head tilts, staring back at Shizuo.

 

“I, I think I’m… your dad. Probably am.”

 

The kid’s eyes widen, his lips move and Shizuo almost misses what he says with how quietly he asks, “My dad?”

 

He nods. The gaze on him now is as wondrous as it is scrutinizing. Somehow, the kid looks more fragile to Shizuo now than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With every chapter, I dig my own grave deeper. (Holy fuck, I can't believe how quick I was with this chapter!) I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter and doesn't mind the necessary minor OC for plot and progression sake. (I was pretty lazy with her name and just combo'd two fitting video game character names since her time is extremely limited.)
> 
> I've appreciated all of your (very quick) comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	3. The Apple That Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fine, Delic supposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note: Strawberry in Japanese is ichigo and the chin suffix is a diminutive variant of chan. (Izaya isn't making a dick reference with his playful Dotachin nickname.)

Delic has never wanted for any thing. Any thing he’s ever asked for he’s been bought and given or promised and delivered. His large bedroom is filled with _things_ that provide him with all of the comforts of distractions and the ever-present illusion of love and being cared for. Miss Mari loves him, the little boy is positive. Hugs him when asked or when he’s visibly upset, bakes him sweets to cheer him up and would tuck him in when he was younger, the expectancies of a mother, but he’s never felt mothered by the lone woman in his life. She’s never allowed their relationship to progress, going so far as to tell the little boy not to call her mom. If asked, Delic would say that she feels like a really older sister. If asked again, Delic wouldn’t elaborate and say that she feels like an older sister being told to babysit. Miss Mari loves children and him, but there’s something Delic can’t quite figure out that’s keeping her distant compared to the other mothers he’s watched. She had adopted him, cared for him since he was a babe, didn’t that mean that she wanted him as if he were her own?

 

It’s all fine, he supposes. ( _He_ isn’t, though he’ll pretend.) Delic’s home still feels like a home, like comfort and safety and warmth, but never like he himself belongs there. Not entirely.

 

School had given the little boy access to the companionship he longed for, for a few short years. He was in plenty of after-school activities that he adored, but he took to a lot of new things _quickly_. Far quicker than his peers, and, with each passing year, he was taken out of the classes with children his own age and placed in more and more advanced classes and tutoring programs with older children. Delic’s own mind had isolated him from his peers.

 

And then, his own body decided to join in as well.

 

If asked, Delic will say he won’t remember what made him so angry that he punched that wall, shattering the brick and his hand to pieces simultaneously.

 

Delic’s cast has finished being put on, the pure white of it chiding him for his behavior, and Miss Mari is out of the room taking care of the paperwork. He won’t be able to participate in a lot of his classes and activities now and knowing that makes him want to curl up in to a ball. It’s when he considers sneaking in a cry that the door clicks, and Miss Mari’s friend shows up.

 

“Hey, Deli-chin.” The young man greets softly, shutting the door behind him and squatting in front of Delic on the examination table. “What happened, hm?”

 

“...I lost my cool.” The brunet watches Delic’s face closely, trying to soak in and analyze every detail. He frowns for a second, it twisting in to a soothing smile before the little boy can blink.

 

“There was something special in the candy bowl downstairs.” He whispers, teasingly. “So, I snagged it.”

 

The young man produces a small, light pink candy from his pocket, the little strawberry mascot on the wrapper smiling up at the smaller brunet. Delic’s face brightens at the gift.

 

“They’re still your favorite, right?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

The man untwists the wrapper open for him. “So, you got angry?”

 

“...Yeah.”

 

“You don’t want to talk more about it?”

 

“Not… really.” Delic stuffs the candy into his mouth, just to keep from saying more.

 

He hums, dissatisfied, and reaches forward to run fingers through the brunet’s mop of hair. The man considers pressing the boy for more information, but the amount of moisture he saw in those honey brown eyes when he came in holds back his inquiries as sufficiently as wet cement drying in his throat.

 

The man pops up, “You know what we should do now?” He turns towards the cup of writing instruments by the computer, swiping the black permanent marker. “Make your cast more exciting!”

 

The marker is waved in front of Delic. “You first? Or should I?”

 

“Nuh-uh, you first.”

 

“Alright!” He bubbly chirps. “How about a cat?”

 

“Icchin!”

 

“Eh?” The young man takes the little candy wrapper held out for him. “Okay, okay. Icchin first, _then_ a cat.”

 

There’s a warm silence in the room as he begins to draw the mascot. Delic decides to break it momentarily, quietly speaking up.

 

“Hey, Izaya?” Izaya hums, pausing to glance up. “Thanks.”

 

In the examination room, free from the prying eyes of the entire world, Izaya’s smile is serene and far deeper than anyone else has ever been allowed to see.

 

“Deli-chin still remembers my number, right?” The boy nods and Izaya bends forward to smooth his hair with his free hand. “You can call any time you need anything.” Delic nods again, watching Izaya return to drawing intently.

 

He won’t.

 

He never has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am weak and pathetic trash, throw me in the dumpster with Izaya. Fell free to yell at me if I almost made you cry. (I may or may not almost have myself? You can't prove it either way.)
> 
> I appreciate all of your comments and feedback! (Really, I've gotten such amazingly sweet comments!) As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	4. A Love Strong Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The love Shizuo feels for the kid might be stronger than he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let me tell you now  
> My love is strong enough to last when things are rough  
> It's magic"  
> \- Take A Chance On Me, ABBA

To Shizuo it seems like Delic is trying to commit his appearance, every single little detail of it, to his memory. He awkwardly shifts in place, unsure of what he should say now and thinking that he might’ve messed up things by being so forward. His eyes wander in the quiet, looking at all of the things he presumes Miss Mari brought from home to make the little boy more comfortable.

 

“Are you here to take me away?”

 

Shizuo’s eyes snap back, wide. It came out curious instead of fearful.

 

“No. Not unless… You want me to?”

 

Delic shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Shizuo exhales deeply, shoulders sinking. He’s the stranger forcing themselves into another’s life, it makes him feel like shit. Worse that it’s after a traumatic event. _No better than Izaya_ , Shizuo thinks. Tar pits in his stomach, he doesn’t want the kid to associate any negative emotions with him.

 

“Listen,” he starts evenly, taking a large breath. “Whatever it is that you want, I’ll comply with. If you never wanna see my face again, for whatever reason, I won’t show up again unless you change your mind. If you want me to come back, I’ll be here every day til you get out. And then we can go do whatever you want together.”

 

Delic’s heart thuds in his ear like a crescendoing drum. With the splints, he can’t clench his fingers to relieve some of the pressure building in his chest. His lips press together, rolling inwards to be bitten against one another. He worries that he’ll cry, so he has to say something.

 

“Karaoke.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I wanna go do some karaoke.” Shizuo releases a burst of breath, the tension in his chest uncoiling. He smiles, small and adoringly.

 

“Okay. I’ll reserve a booth for us on the day you’re let go.” The petite smile he gets in return slams into him harder than any truck has, the impact stuttering his heart. Shizuo coughs, face dusting pink, just to help right it.

 

He walks around the bed to bring one of the chairs to the bedside, the plastic bag brushing his leg. “Oh right.” The blond pulls out the box as he sits. “This is for you. For, uh, later.” Shizuo’s eyes catch the splints on Delic’s fingers again, picking up on the chipping pink polish adorning his nails. The hospital bed is wearing a blanket from home, a cheerful young girl in a short skirt posing at him. Shizuo blinks, he should learn about his kid’s interests.

 

“Chocolates?”

 

“Yeah. I only got the six pack, since the nurses get angry when you bring too much sugar to the patients. I’m sorry, I don’t know what you like yet.”

 

Delic supplies, “Strawberry Bubble Bop.”

 

“That candy with the strawberry ballerina mascot?”

 

“Yeah!” Honey brown eyes light up with pep. “They’re _so good!_ ”

 

“I’ve never had any before.”

 

“ _What?!_ They’ve got _cream_ in the center!”

 

Shizuo laughs breezily at Delic’s wide eyed shock, “I’ll try some with you next time.”

 

The unpleasant air returns when they both quiet. Familiarity will be a long road to travel and it’s not as if they can do much else besides talk to one another while Delic’s bedridden, but Shizuo’s not the most amazing conversationalist. He fears his worst qualities rearing their heads before the kid’s given him much of a chance. But that way of thinking is slightly ridiculous, he realizes, since they’re probably the only two around with the same strength problem and children have never been subject to his temper. If anything will frighten the little boy, it’ll be how he acts when angry at other people.

 

“How many times have you been in the hospital?” The blond asks softly.

 

“First time.” Shizuo heaves a relieved sigh. He’s arrived at the start, he’ll be able to be around and help ease the worst burdens. “I usually just break one or two things at a time and get set home in a cast, but Sensei said I displaced and pulled some junk in my back lifting that beam.”

 

“What made you angry?” Delic’s face sours, gaze breaking away from Shizuo’s to his hands.

 

“Some old fart said pop music was brainless, so...” _I think I wanted to make_ _ **him**_ _brainless._

 

“Music must mean a lot to you, huh?”

 

Delic’s expression instantly twists in agitation. “Music is one of the best ways to connect to other people; to tell stories and share emotions! A single song can make an entire room of completely different people experience the same feeling and put them all in someone else’s shoes! Even if it’s just some repeated chorus over an altered sample, it should give you something! If it makes people happy, then it’s not stupid!” Shizuo gazes back, enraptured, as Delic’s eyes glow with earnesty as he gushes about his passion.

 

“I don’t really listen to music much,” Shizuo admits embarrassingly. “You’ll have to recommend me some stuff, okay?”

 

“Okay! What kind of stuff do you like?”

  
  
“Uh...” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he ponders what he’s even heard in passing. “Probably some Ruri Hijiribe. Maybe some Akira Terao stuff too?”

 

Delic absentmindedly tries to shift in his excitement, failing to get closer with the brace locking his position. “Have you heard Rain Tears?”

 

“That’s her latest single, right?” The little boy hums an affirmative. “Yeah. I gotta pick up the album still. I’ve been trying to get into her stuff lately. Wanna tell me where to start?”

 

“Yes! I mean-- I can!” Shizuo smiles softly, scooting his chair closer and leaning forward to give his son more validation from his rapt attention.

 

* * *

 

Before the nurse arrives to announce that it’s bedtime and that he has to leave, Shizuo learns a multitude of things about Delic. He’s nine. (Shizuo’s missed _nine years_ of his life!) He attends one of those fairly upper-crusty private schools that Shizuo couldn’t dream of affording even if he sold one of his kidneys. He speaks English, something Shizuo remembers struggling to learn for a passable grade in _high-school_. The kid dislikes sports, hating how grimy they makes him feel. Music class is, of course, his favorite and best subject, second best being math. His favorite color is pink and he does paint his nails a bright shade on the regular. The young girl flashing him the peace sign is Sailor Venus and she is, apparently, “the best”. Delic wants to get his ears pierced but Miss Mari had, and always has, shut him down on that front. He loves strawberry and peach milk above all other kinds and he likes to sneak milkshake purchases at the fast-food place by his school on his walk home, but he’s pretty sure Miss Mari knows anyway. (Honestly, who the hell gives a nine year old a credit card and _doesn’t_ check their purchase history?)

 

Shizuo’s never encountered such a feminine little boy. He gets the vibe that Delic’s ostracized by his peers, especially when he doesn’t mention any friends or classmates that he hangs around with. His heart aches for the sweet kid, excluded from others his age due to his interests and now probably because of his body. Something he inherited from Shizuo, no less. If he has to provide twice as much attention and support for the brunet, he’s gonna damn well do so. If Shizuo can prevent any of his own feelings of anxiety, fear, or loneliness from passing down his branch of the family tree, then he’ll learn about painting nails and Sailor Moon and whatever else the kid loves that neon-signs him for bullies. He’ll be there through it, accepting and supportive every step of the way. (Except for the ear piercing thing.)

 

Shizuo leans over to soothingly thread his fingers through Delic’s oak brown hair, brushing back a few strands of his bangs. His voice is smooth and velvety soft like the chocolate in the box on the bedside table. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

 

Delic’s head shakes minutely, afraid to nod and mess with the tingly sensation in his scalp. His face feels warm. “Okay.”

 

The blond turns back before the tight hallway at the door. “Goodnight, Delic.” Said boy’s nose crinkles with humor as he fumbles with the foreign sound in his name. Shizuo murmurs admonishing, “I’ll get it.”

 

“Goodnight, Shizuo.”

 

His apartment doesn’t feel quite as homey when he gets back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference Notes: Akira Terao is the original singer of Ruby no Yubiwa/Ruby Ring. Rain Tears is the song Ruri sang on the Durarara!! rap CD.
> 
> (I refuse and reject any Dad!Shizuo story that doesn't characterize Shizuo as Supportive Dad.) This is the second chapter I've written that's made me tear up some. (God, I'm so weak for good parent fluff!) People in the fandom know that Ono sings (Stand Proud featuring Kamiya laughing in the background is still gold), but y'all can google Freeman singing a bit of opera as well. (When will Steven Universe give Connie's Dad a song?!)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! (I'm shocked you all were so accepting and encouraging of Mari. Honestly, she's really just there to fill a plot necessary role and is half-assed in design. I don't really deserve praise for that!) As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	5. Pictorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Images carry everything and nothing.

The first thing Tom notices about Shizuo the next day at work is how he’s radiating a warm, peaceful aura, like the ocean brushing the sands on a sunny summer day. His heart elates for his friend, and he doesn’t have to ask how yesterday went.

 

“You look great today, Shizuo.”

 

“Huh? I’m wearing the same as usual.”

 

“Not that, man.” Tom laughs. Shizuo looks fairly dazed, Tom would probably guess from a mixture of waking up recently and his head being off elsewhere in the clouds. “So, how’s the kid? What’re they like?”

 

“He’s-- Delic’s as fine as he can be. He mostly fractured his fingers and arm ripping out that beam. There was a few dislocations, but his most serious injury was to his back and that’s, thankfully, just a strain. They’ve put him in a brace for now to be careful though; he’s a pretty animated kid. It could go as soon as a week, but the splits and cast will be at least two weeks.” The brunet nods along as they walk to their first stop. If they’re Shizuo’s kid, knowing his history, then they’ve probably got a lower expected recovery time than most. Especially if it’s not their first injury.

 

“But, god, Tom, he’s-- He’s fucking _adorable_.”

 

Tom laughs heartily, “Gonna become one of those dads with a hundred photos of their kid in their wallet?”

 

“Dammit!” Shizuo suddenly exclaims, frightening a few others on the sidewalk that recognize him. “I should’ve asked for photos yesterday! I knew I forgot something!” His friend begins folding into himself, shaking with amusement, as the blond pulls out his phone to send a text message. Mari had given Shizuo everything necessary: her number, Delic’s number, their home address, Delic’s school address. Within a minute, Shizuo’s phone chimes back.

 

“Look at ‘im, Tom.” He says, voice tiny and already fond.

 

The other man is passed the phone, a photo attachment open on screen. It looks like a back-to-school photo, judging by the location next to the school sign and the spring uniform. The little brunet grins happily, flashing two fingers at the camera. Delic is Shizuo’s kid alright, the resemblance is uncanny. His features are still soft, not having matured yet, but Tom can make out the exact same eyes, nose, and jaw shape. _Damn, what did the kid get from his mother_ , Tom wonders.

 

“So, are you getting a DNA test to be positive or…?” The blond is handed back his phone to return to sunnily smiling back at the photo.

 

“Yeah, Harusawa-san – that’s his adoptive mother, Mari Harusawa – said she’d give me permission and set something up.” Shizuo’s phone beeps as he fiddles with it, swapping out his background of the cat that hangs around the alley by his apartment building. “She’s been very supportive.”

 

“That’s great, man. I haven’t seen you this happy in some time.” Probably not since Kasuka’s last visit.

 

“To be honest… I’m pretty scared.” He admits softly. Tom turns his head, catching the weak, open expression on Shizuo’s face as he stares at the phone’s new display. Ikebukuro’s Strongest, with his fragile heart beating on the cuff of his sleeve.

 

The other man pats and clasps his shoulder encouragingly. “You’re not gonna screw anything up, Shizuo.”

 

“You’re a really good guy. Kid’s gonna see that in no time. Just admit when you make mistakes and never stop trying to be better; that’s all that kids need besides stability, patience, love, and attention.”

 

The tension in Shizuo’s shoulders eases up. “Thanks, Tom.”

  
  
“’Course. Now, c’mon, let’s bring home some bacon. Delic looks due for a growth spurt and I remember how many clothes you went through in junior high.”

 

“...How the hell do you pronounce that _L_ so easily?”

 

* * *

 

During the afternoon, Shizuo gets a text informing him that the proper preparations have been made and are ready to go, and that all he has to do is stop by the clinic to give his oral sample and signature of consent. The clinic is slightly out of place, but it takes him less than ten minutes and then he’s heading back to the hospital. The results will come in one to two days at the absolute shortest, though he’s in no rush. Everyone is positive of the outcome and he doesn’t have to assert his rights just to see his kid. Rather than sit around and get unreasonably anxious about it, Shizuo’s got a place to be and a person to see.

 

When he gets to the correct room, Mari politely greets him. She digs through her messenger bag momentarily, presenting him a manilla envelope.

 

The blond opens it carefully, peering inside to see a large stack. “This is… _a_ _lot_ of photos.”

 

“It was no trouble. Delic’s a very photogenic little boy, I tried to pick out the most important ones for you. You’re more than welcome to sort through the albums back at home, Heiwajima-san. There are a few DVDs as well, but he’ll want to watch them with you.”

 

“DVDs?”

 

“Indeed,” Mari crosses her legs in her seat, hand fondly against her cheek. “Every time he competes or enters into something, I’ve been there with my camera to capture it all.”

 

 _Competing?_ The kid hadn’t mentioned entering into anything yesterday. They hadn’t lingered on the subject of school for long, but Shizuo had picked up that the kid enjoyed it to a reasonable degree. Maybe Delic was pressured into them or it was some requirement of the haughty school he attended. He could ask the woman for more details, but hearing it from the kid would be best.

 

Shizuo nods to the window on the door, the room inside dark with the lights off. “He nappin’?”

 

“No, he’s been watching movies all day.”

 

The blond makes an understanding noise before letting himself in. Pittering rain and a young woman talking echoes in the hospital room. Sounds like some sort of drama to Shizuo, listening to the sobbed lines as he walks towards the bed. A laptop’s been propped up on the adjustable table over his bed, providing the only light in the room.

 

“What’re you watchin’?” He stage-whispers.

 

Delic blinks away from the movie, “You came back.”

 

“I said I would.” The little boy continues to stare back at him as Shizuo’s stomach churns. It makes sense that the kid would doubt him, but… Delic’s casual surprise stung. Had he really not expected Shizuo to?

 

A young man in the movie begins speaking and the blond’s shoulders hitch. “Is that…?” He moves up the bedside to look at the screen, as if he couldn’t recognize his own brother’s voice. The box laying next to the computer confirms his suspicions as well.

 

“Do you like Yuuhei Hanejima?”

 

“Yeah. Isn’t this movie a little too...” Shizuo falters. It was one of Kasuka’s gooey romance roles, all that happens in this thing that he can remember is crying over forbidden love and ridiculous drama as the two protagonists sneak around. Shit, was there even an issue? Was it just Shizuo’s expectations of what he thinks the kid should like? “Adult?”

 

“What defines being an adult besides the largely arbitrary number society has given us?”

 

The blond gracefully retorts, “What?” _Is that a line from the movie?_

 

“What’s _that_?”

 

“Huh-- Oh,” he glances back at the envelope. “I asked Harusawa-san for pictures of you.”

 

Delic shifts in place, “Turn off the movie! I wanna see!”

 

The corner of Shizuo’s mouth twitches as he does as he’s been told. “Okay. Have you seen this one before?”

 

“Ahuh, it’s my favorite of his.”

 

He clicks the lights on, dragging a chair back to it’s spot from yesterday. “Really? One of the romantic ones, not one of his actions?”

 

“Is that bad?” Shizuo looks back at Delic’s hard stare, “Nah. Liking lovey-dovey stuff and happy endings is fine.” He’d be far more concerned if the kid was one of those gore-hounds.

 

He slides the stack of photos out of the manilla envelope, feeling his chest compress and cave in at the image on top of the stack. A baby photo, the delicate snapshot from a nap-time. Thin rays of natural sunlight stripe across the blanket on the tiny infant sleeping soundly. Shizuo knows had he been present he would’ve been far too petrified to even touch his baby, however, he still longs to live that moment. That cottony soft moment when it must’ve been quiet enough to hear the small breathing of the baby in the crib. He blinks away the moisture in his eyes, sliding the photo to the back of the stack to see the next.

 

“Hey! I wanna see!”

 

“S-Sorry.” The blond stutters down from his own little world, placing it on Delic’s lap.

 

“Oh, this one.” The brunet looks at his infant self with disinterest, not catching whatever that had moved his parent. “Miss Mari says I was a very fussy baby. And that I liked to grab hair.” Shizuo chuckles warmly.

 

He scans every photo, trying to imprint the images into his brain. Feedings, other places the child had fallen asleep, play-times, learning to walk, and walking. His heart sinks further and further into the pit of his stomach as so many precious moments are only delivered to him via past camera clicks.

 

Delic’s a toddler making far too much of a mess with his finger-paints when the stack starts skipping large amounts of time. Trips to Disneyland go by in Shizuo’s hands, then birthday parties. There’s a fancy, petite cake in each and every one, the largest candle in the middle always supplying the age. The little boy wears a different party hat in each one but always in his own home. Mari’s the only other person visibly present at each little party. The aches in Shizuo’s heart begin anew. Another adult wouldn’t’ve made much of a difference to the child compared to the presence of another child. It strikes him that the brunet probably hasn’t had a friend since forever.

 

The brunet’s sixth birthday is flipped by. Shizuo expects his seventh next and instead gets Delic hugging his present. It’s a simple black keyboard, still in it’s box, but he’s grinning widely and his eyes shine with unbridled elation.

 

“You play piano?”

 

“Mhm!”

 

Shizuo suddenly recalls what Mari had said about Delic being upset about his hands and frowns. His injury is keeping him from his greatest passion and pleasure.

 

“Would you play for me some time?”

 

Delic tries to shrug, wincing in pain from the brace. “Sure! What do you like?”

 

“Uh...”

 

“ _Right._ I’ll just pick something. I know a lot of songs, so it’s okay.”

 

He considers earlier, “Do you enter any piano competitions?”

 

“Yeah, but they’re pretty stuffy. I don’t mind wearing the suits, and playing on the grand pianos always feel _amazing_ , but they always want you to play something classical.” Shizuo laughs gently at the mild complaint.

 

School becomes the major focus in the pictures. Stills by the school signs, differing uniforms as the seasons change, the small events the school holds that Delic participates in. More birthdays and another Disneyland trip peppers in between. Shizuo’s started to pick up on the subtle differences in Delic’s smiles as he grows in his hands. The way his eyes sparkle and go wide with the innocent joys of childhood. The way his smile doesn’t spread beyond his lips and how his eyes won’t crinkle at the corners. The differences between the polite or expected expression for the camera documenting an important moment versus _I don’t like this_ and _I don’t want to be here right now_. Someone so young shouldn’t be hiding what they’re really feeling. Hell, _no one_ should be bottling up their emotions inside, but _kids_. Kids should always be able to express what they’re really feeling, they should be encouraged towards healthy outlets like crying to depressurize or talking it out.

 

Shizuo places the last photo on top of the stack in Delic’s lap. He leans forward, propping his elbows on top of his knees. Delic stares back, discerning the serious body language instantly.

 

“I want…” The blond exhales, searching for the best choice of words that don’t come across as too demanding. “Listen, I’m always going to be honest with you, and I want you to always be honest with me as well. If you don’t like something or feel bad or… whatever. I want you to tell me so I can help or just know about it. I want you to always know and feel like you can come to me about whatever – _everything_. Especially if it’s me making you feel bad in some way. Okay, Delic?”

 

The little boy’s eyes narrow and his mouth twists as his lips press together, he’s suddenly uncomfortable in his skin. Delic knows he’s not the most authentic at times, it’s easier that way most of the time. Trying to be forthright about everything he thinks or feels all of the time would destabilize his footing, it would open him up to getting hurt worse than he ever could physically. He hates the prospective outcomes alone.

 

The room stays dead silent and Shizuo frowns, saddening further when he catches Delic’s instinctual attempt to hunch into himself.

 

“You don’t have to bottle everything up, Delic, it’s not good for you. Lemme carry some of that weight with you; for you.”

 

Delic’s breathing is tensed and thin. “I-- Okay,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got sat on a bit and was written all over the place due to me being in the process of moving out of my abusive home and into a place where I can gear towards self-improvement. Being raised by an abusive mother and having an absentee father, writing this type of AU has been quite therapeutic. I suppose I can say that a lot of personal experience and knowledge about what makes a good parent and how they should act/behave went in. (Of course, Shizuo's character is quite predisposed to such behaviors.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	6. Scarlet Kanji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familial ties either carry weight or don't.

On Shizuo’s fifth visit, Mari hands him a white envelope outside of the door. The name and logo for the clinic are stark, staring back at him with promise. He wants to rip it open right away, wanting nothing more than to have that black inked confirmation in front of his eyes. Instead, Shizuo politely thanks the woman for her help and enters the hospital room.

 

Delic’s watching a television show when the door clicks open. His eyes roll to the clock, making a note of the time. The blond has already set a time frame for the boy to expect him. He hasn’t missed a day and he doesn’t plan to.

 

“The results are here,” Shizuo says, holding up the envelope and clicking off the television. Delic tries to shuffle, growing anxious over something he doesn’t want to place.

 

The chances of Delic not being his strike Shizuo fully as he takes his usual spot in the chair by the bed. They’re extremely slim, based on everyone’s assessment, but they still _exist_ and Shizuo in this moment realizes he’s terrified of that outcome. Coming to the hospital every day has given him a sense of purpose. Despite the anxiety of potentially fucking it all up, the feeling of someone depending on him specifically to be there is all he’s ever yearned for. There’s an important reason to improve as a person and a reason that his life might not be a total fruitless mess. Then there’s the normalcy he’s desired for since childhood. Single parenthood isn’t looked upon too greatly in society, but as if he could give a rat’s ass. If he’s the luckiest bastard in the world then he’ll get entire days with his kid. He’s got a one room apartment, but he’ll move to the living room couch if it means waking up and making breakfast together, walking him to school, and _god, all_ of what that entails.

 

“I...” Shizuo swallows. “Even if this is negative, I want to be around for you. I’m _gonna_.” His eyes drift away momentarily as he thinks out his sentences. “We have the same… abnormality and you don’t have to deal with it alone. I don’t want you to go through what I did and I know I can’t prevent all of it but you won’t be alone. You don’t have to feel all of the shit I felt ‘cause you’re not the only one in this.”

 

Delic presses his lips together harshly, turning them white as the blood is pushed away. His mind is flooding with different thoughts and feelings and it’s making his chest ache with every heartbeat. His eyes might be watering and if he cries he’ll never live down the embarrassment. It’s too much and he wishes he could stomp some of it all down. “Just open it already!”

 

“I-- O-Okay.”

 

Heavy, choked breathing and the sharp tearing of the envelope paper is all that fills the silence of the hospital room. There’s only one page inside, and it takes Shizuo a few seconds to skim through and decipher all of the medical jargon for what he wants to know. The answer sits near the bottom in a box exclusive for the results, typed with black lettering.

 

Shizuo exhales, breathless as he speaks. “It’s positive.”

 

Delic blinks, evening his breathing. He’s still not sure what to _do_ with all of this information. This type of person isn’t what he’s used to, Shizuo’s genuinity and big promises rock his perceptions and test his limits. He’s scared to near death of trusting every word, but, at the same time, his chest is full with a warmness he’s unfamiliar with and he _wants_ to believe it all.

 

Softly, Delic asks, “So, what does that mean?”

 

Shizuo starts and catches himself, realizing what the boy is asking. “I… don’t know. Whatever you want it to mean.” His cheeks pinken, “You don’t have to call me Dad or anything, if you don’t want to.” His heart might beat strong enough to snap some ribs if he hears that.

 

“Old man.”

 

“ _Hey_ ,” Shizuo laughs at the light tease, his smile recoiling as it hits him. “ _Shit_ , I haven’t called Kasuka or my parents yet.” He kept meaning to but by the time he got home it was always late and he was tired and didn’t want to disturb anyone. Kasuka will be easy, but his parents are going to be awkward. He’s honestly not looking forward to that talk.

 

“Kasuka?”

 

“My brother – _your_ uncle. I was waiting til the results to call my-- your grandparents.” Shizuo watches Delic’s face twist slightly. It’s probably too much too soon, he reasons. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to meet them til you’re ready and want to. They retired out to the country and Kasuka’s work schedule is hectic anyway.” The kid’s going to flip out when he meets Kasuka and, being his only nephew, there’s a chance Kasuka might try and spoil Delic, or at least offer Shizuo funds to do so himself. It’s a sour thought, having to borrow money from his little brother when he should be able to provide his kid with what they need and want himself, but damn. He _does_ want to give the kid the moon if he could. He’ll need Tom’s help finding a larger apartment anyway, no one wants Shizuo Heiwajima as a tenant.

 

“Are you gonna change my name?” Delic curiously asks and Shizuo wants to grimace, his stomach churning, pulled in two different directions. Familial recognition, pride in that Delic is _his son_ and everyone will know that from then on, but the terrible pitfall that is being Shizuo Heiwajima’s Son. The _Monster_ of Ikebukuro’s Child. There’s no way he can prepare either of them for what might come from that, and he doesn’t want to frighten Delic by saying anything either.

 

Shizuo watches Delic’s face carefully as he softly asks, “Do you want me to?”

 

“I don’t know.” Changing his surname makes him legitimate, it’s an attachment Delic’s scared of. “I guess.’

 

“Okay, I’ll get the family registry changed. But I’ll have to talk to Harusawa-san--”

 

“She won’t care.”

 

The blond is stunned by the curt interruption. Delic’s face is honest and blasé as he gazes back. Shizuo’s not sure of what he should say or do in response to that. The little boy knows they’re talking about legal acknowledgment and changes to rights, but the way Delic is expressing himself, it’s as if they’re conversing about buying a new change of clothes.

 

“She’s still legally your parent, and it seems like she cares about you a lot to me.”

 

His head shakes, “Not like that.”

 

Shizuo stays quiet as they both look at one another. Something’s been off from the start with them and he can’t figure it out.

 

“Is there something that happened that you’d like to talk about?”

 

“Nothing’s happened.”

 

Delic’s face is the same and Shizuo thinks something’s clicked together for him.

 

“And that’s the problem?” The little brunet’s eyes widen. “I think I understand, but when you’re more comfortable you can talk to me about it so I know better. Okay, Delic?”

 

“You...” He starts but can’t finish, turning his head to break apart their stare. Shizuo opens his mouth to verbalize more reassurance and patience, but Delic’s already decided to turn the conversation away from the shaky discomfort he feels. “You said it right.”

 

“What?”

 

“My name.”

 

“Oh,” Shizuo smiles despite the minute confusion from the rapid subject change, “I’m glad.”

 

Delic turns back, eyes on his fingers in their splits. He flexes them, feeling the restraint and frowning. “How is Heiwajima written?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter, but I hope it doesn't show or feel clunky or anything negative! I realized that I had been putting this story off a bit to work on my other as well as struggling with the upcoming story beat. In saying that, expect some oncoming time skips to speed up Delic getting out of the hospital and, of course, everyone's favorite informant.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	7. Golden Delicious (Chance Seedling)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya makes a sudden second visit.

A young man hidden deep within an alley way dials a rarely used number on a rarely used phone. It rings twice before being answered.

 

“Yes?”

 

“How is he?”

 

“Well,” the young woman on the other end begins. “Delic’s brace was removed around an hour ago. He’s quite happy about that.”

 

Izaya allows himself a small smile. One injury gone and an estimated two weeks still to go. The most worrying injury is gone, but the ones that create mental stress for the little boy still remain. “And with the rest?”

 

Mari hesitates before the next topic, sighing quietly away from the phone to keep it from being picked up over the speaker. “He hasn’t had much time to lament over them. His daily visitor has kept him quite preoccupied.”

 

_Daily? Delic’s gotten himself such a loyal friend? Or--_ “Why am I only hearing about this now?” Izaya’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the brick in front of him. Prospective danger has been lurking near his child and he’s only been notified about it _days_ later?

 

“It’s not someone you needed to check the background of.” Mari states matter-of-factually.

 

Izaya’s lip twitches, fingers gripping the cell tighter. He opens his mouth to speak with a sneer when her voice cuts through.

 

“It’s Shizuo Heiwajima.”

 

The brunet’s breathing stills and his heart stutters with shock. His phone slips in his grip, almost dropping to the cement from the cold sweat of disbelief. His chest is squeezed and, despite this, his brain quickly supplies the _how_ and _why_. The Dollars; he hadn’t been quick enough to pull everything down and someone had passed the information on to Shizuo. Then Shizuo, of course he’d… A fear that had itched the back of Izaya’s mind all of these years finally broke out. He had been _so careful_ and one slip was all it took.

 

When he finds his voice, it comes out as a sharp whisper. “You’ve let that monster near my child?” Quelled anger lifts it up. “Did you forget that I pay you to keep him _safe_?”

 

“Heiwajima has no history of hurting children and is no threat to Delic. His appearance has already begun lifting Delic’s spirits. Having someone around with a similar abnormality will benefit him.” Mari snaps back, “Did you forget that you pay me to prioritize his health and happiness as well?”

 

“You think that idiot will make him _happy_?”

 

“Do you think that he was happy before?”

 

Izaya’s mouth snaps closed and his lips press. Of course he’s no fool, but there was nothing he could have done. He loathed seeing loneliness in the little boy’s eyes, but he had no cure for it. Perhaps it stung him more knowing that the blond brute had been the one to alleviate Delic’s sorrows instead of himself.

 

After a beat of silence, Mari evenly says, “Heiwajima has taken a DNA test and has asked for joint custody, Delic desires to change his surname and join Heiwajima’s koseki. I’ve no reason to refuse their requests.”

 

Izaya slumps his back against a brick wall for support. His stomach is _sick_ and his heart is _throbbing_ , he doesn’t know what to do now. His nightmares are materializing before his eyes and he has no strategies or options at the ready. He had always anticipated Shizuo finding out eventually, but this was too soon and far, far too much all at once. He slips down the wall to sit on the cement, his fingers tremble with distress as he snaps the cellphone shut without another word.

 

_How dare that stupid bastard_ , Izaya thinks. Shizuo’s too much of a simple-minded imbecile to fully realize what he’s done. He rakes his hands through his hair as he crumbles more into himself in the alleyway. Out of the view of the entire world, no one knows what Izaya Orihara does alone.

 

* * *

 

It’s a little past noon when Izaya makes it out of the alleyway he had tucked himself into. He wanders around the city and neighborhood surrounding the hospital seemingly aimlessly, circling the same streets and paths and zigzagging through the connecting alleys, even hopping over fences and climbing up and over rooftops.. After an hour of walking to nowhere, he changes direction and goes exactly where he wants to be.

 

The hospital staff are certain not to look at him, as if he were a ghost wandering the halls rather than a man, and none of them dare to speak to him in fear of consequences from the tales amongst themselves. Izaya had long assured his reputation for any possible emergency visits. When witnesses to your visit all fear losing their medical licenses and being blacklisted from their field entirely or, worse, their personal lives being disrupted, suddenly you’re invisible to everyone who could claim you were there.

 

The brunet doesn’t spare the young woman by the door a glance before strutting right into the hospital room.

 

At the sound of the door clicking open, Delic turns his head away from the program playing on his laptop. His eyes light up with surprise and he exclaims, “Izaya!”

 

“Hey there, Deli-chin,” he greets with a chipper wiggle of fingers.

 

“What’s wrong?” Izaya freezes as Delic’s words cut through the pleasant facade. The happiness present in the boy’s expression from the sudden visit replaced by seriousness.

 

“Eh?”

 

Delic quickly supplies, “You never visit twice when I’m hurt.”

 

Izaya stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat, curling his fingers tightly. He doesn’t wish to curse his child’s perceptiveness, but being slapped in the face with the knowledge that Delic picked up on that causes him to ache and loathe his own cowardice nonetheless.

 

The brunet had practically raised his two siblings while young, but the talk of some mothers were absolutely right; seeing your own suffering can’t compare to witnessing others. The first time with tears and cries of pain still lurked in his nightmares. It was a minor fracture with a few cuts, but he had frozen in place like a statue. Knowing you couldn’t help and had to sit idly by as others helped instead was magnitudes worse than running away. Only, at least, until the person that needs you around through their pain throws it back at you.

 

“You’ve never been admitted to a hospital before.”

 

“That’s true.” Delic shrugs it off, no more concerned with the topic.

 

“Does… Deli-chin not want me to visit him?” Delic squints at the older man’s soft question. Something’s wrong and it’s making him uncomfortable. It feels like he’s being asked something else entirely and he can’t figure out what and hates it. Izaya’s defensive posture and neutral face doesn’t assist him any.

 

“No,” he says with almost too much enthusiasm. “I like it when we hang out.”

 

He’s approached with a gentle smile, fingers leaving their pocket to comb through his hair. That warmth bubbles inside of Delic again and he blushes lightly.

 

Izaya sits beside him on the bed, ignoring the chair kept at the side. “Miss Mari says you’ve had a frequent visitor.”

 

“My dad,” the little boy says quietly, as if the word itself is fragile. Something inside of Izaya stings sharply.

 

“I know Shizuo from high school,” he starts.

 

“Does he always tell the truth?” Delic blurts out without waiting for anymore information. The urgency causes Izaya to stall momentarily. He gazes back into the eager eyes on him filled with worry and wonders what sort of things Shizuo’s been saying to Delic. He’s always had an idea of what type of parent Shizuo will be – _is_. Izaya sorts through all of the words he can respond with as he keeps looking back into those desperate eyes and he opens his mouth to lie.

 

“...Yeah. Shizuo means what he says. As long as it’s for someone he cares for, he’ll hurt himself to make sure he keeps his promises.”

 

Izaya’s fingers twitch and Delic seems to relax at the answer. He’s eased so many of the little brunet’s troubles with his words and there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that Shizuo won’t follow up on whatever he’s said that’s struck Delic so hard. Momentarily, Izaya considers bugging the room to watch the two, but the thought itself is painful.

 

“Delic.” Cutesy nickname gone, his attention is instantly brought back with the solemn tone. “Shizuo Heiwajima hates me.”

 

“...Why?”

 

“He’s hated me ever since we first met in high school.” Delic presses his lips together. That’s not really an answer and something tells him he won’t get a full one anyway.

 

“Do you hate him too?”

 

“He’s your dad.” Izaya says apathetically and Delic feels his anger rising.

 

The wooden splints on his fingers grind against one another. “You’re not answering me!”

 

Izaya stays quiet while Delic calms down from his outburst. He has nothing that he can say, his lies die before getting through his vocal chords and the whole truth would be equally disastrous. Izaya Orihara is at a loss for words.

 

“Just say what you wanna say...”

 

Izaya exhales. “If you want me to keep coming around, you can’t tell Shizuo about me.”

 

Delic’s mouth opens slightly as the sentence processes in his mind.

 

“Shizuo gets very angry when I’m mentioned, he’ll say very negative things about me. If he knew that I’ve been around you all of this time…” Izaya trails off. He can’t straightforwardly say that Shizuo would attempt to hurt him. “It’s very important that he doesn’t know about us _at all_. Okay, Delic?”

 

The little brunet openly frowns. They’re both equally aware of what a terrible position he’s been put in. Aside from Mari, Izaya’s been the only other stable presence in his life. His visits and their short hangouts were things the boy looked forward to. Calling an adult your friend was awkward and unusual for someone his age, but he had no one else he could call so and mean it. No one else made him feel understood and _normal_ like Izaya did until Shizuo came and made the second. Delic doesn’t want to discard the old for the new, even in this horrible predicament where he feels split in two directions.

 

“Okay. I understand.”

 

Izaya runs his fingers through Delic’s hair again. The appreciation is openly visible in his expression, his smile small and delicate, though Delic cannot read the other emotion displayed in his eyes.

 

Izaya figures he only has another few hours that he can stay before he risks Shizuo showing up and needing to be long gone. He’s done what he’s had to and could realistically leave after another half hour to go back to work, but there’s jealousy in the pit of his stomach. The imbecilic beast gets to come here every day after work and waste his days without grief or worry for the child he’s putting in danger by lackadaisically walking in. He refuses to envy Shizu-chan’s stupidity.

 

“Hey, guess what, Deli-chin.” Izaya brings back his earlier cheery disposition instantaneously. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a familiar pink candy. “There was something special in the candy bowl again!”

 

Delic wants to wrinkle his nose. Izaya always seems to have one when he’s hurt and his theory is that the older man just buys them before his visits. The brand being a bit too expensive to reasonably buy to stock a free-for-all bowl in a hospital. Delic chalks it up to Izaya’s general oddness and keeps the theory to himself. There’s not much difference in stopping by a convenience store to buy his favorite candy instead of seeing it in a free bowl and taking it to him. _I was thinking about you and your comfort_ , they both equally read.

 

“Thank you, Izaya.” Said man hums with a smile as he unwraps the candy for the boy. “Any time, Deli-chin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the long awaited Izaya chapter is here! Writing him in this AU is a bit tricky because, of course, Izaya can never overtly say or think what he truly means and then the AU set-up in itself jumbles his character a tad. I hope everyone sees through him well enough and doesn't find him too out of character, even in the AU standards! Minor apologies for the wait in-between chapters, as life as been hectic and hard on me recently and then my birthday came. Funnily enough, it's the day before Izaya's own.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! (Yes, even the anon that came to my tumblr to ask about updates!) As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	8. Bull's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks are had.

“Thanks for taking your lunch break off for me, Kasuka.”

 

“You said you had to talk about something important, Nii-san.”

 

Shizuo fidgets, rubbing the back of his neck. Despite all of the thought he put into what he has to say, nothing worked as a better opener than the simple, straightforward truth.

 

“About a week ago, I found out that I’m a dad.”

 

Kasuka doesn’t miss a beat. “Congratulations, Nii-san. Whose the lucky woman?”

 

“I-I don’t know,” Shizuo stutters embarrassingly. “She left him after he was born. I never even knew.”

 

Shizuo’s eyes fall to the tea on the table. That deadbeat feeling is swirling in his stomach again, he can’t seem to shake it even with logic and reason on his side. He takes a deep breath to compose himself some before launching into last week’s events. Kasuka, the ever great stoical listener, sits and watches Shizuo’s eyes as he talks. Simon’s taken and brought their orders by the time the blond’s finished the key points and has broken out into gushing about his son. Shizuo paused to take a sip of his now cold tea when Kasuka finally speaks again.

 

“I’m glad to see you so happy, Nii-san. You’re glowing.”

 

The blond’s hand is back to his neck, a blush on his cheeks. “Thanks.”

 

“Have you told our parents yet?”

 

“No, I figured it’d be easier to come to you first. I’m actually not looking forward to telling them. I,” Shizuo swallows, “I don’t want them to think I screwed up.”

 

“They’ve never thought that about you, Nii-san. I think that they’ll think highly of you for getting involved now, like I do.” Kasuka’s monotonous words always seem to alleviate Shizuo’s worries like a hot press to an ache. The brunet understands his brother’s self-deprecating thoughts and fears. He’s grateful at the sudden appearance of a nephew, giving his older brother a raison d’être and forcing him out of his isolationist habits. He’s thanked Tom personally for doing the very same things. Shizuo thrives on others depending on him, for better or worse. He’s wanted semblances of normalcy since being a child, and now he’s gained more of it.

 

His voice is smaller when he replies, “Thanks, that… That means _a lot_ to me, Kasuka.”

 

“You said that you have pictures of my nephew,” he inquires.

 

Shizuo soft, solemn expression disappears into an excited brightness instantly before digging for his phone. “Yeah, I only have a few older ones of Delic on me though.”

 

The most recent is the one at the school gate from the beginning of the year, Shizuo opens the file before handing his phone over for his younger sibling to see. At the still image, Kasuka blinks several times.

 

“Delic looks just like you, Nii-san.” Uncanny is the word he wants to use.

 

Shizuo’s puffed up like a proud pigeon. “You really think so? I mean, everyone’s said the same, but...”

 

“Have mom send you some pictures of yourself.”

 

The blond flushes. He’s not going to go that far. All Shizuo really wants are pictures of them together, he doesn’t care if he has to carry a photo-booth to the hospital on the day that the casts are removed just to get them as soon as possible.

 

Kasuka, on the other hand, knows exactly what he wants to do as soon as possible as well. “You were mentioning his interests before I interrupted.”

 

* * *

 

After his long lunch with Kasuka, Shizuo decides that he’ll call his parents on the way over to the hospital after work. Shizuo’s smiling when he meets back up with Tom for work, getting a clap on his shoulder when he falls in line to walk alongside of the other man. Tom doesn’t think the blond even realizes how much he’s smiling as of late. He knows it won’t last long, something always comes along to muck up the blond’s day, but Shizuo deserves his moments. As of late, Tom knows that he can always bring up Delic again to pull Shizuo out from his ruts.

 

None of this meant that he had tamed his temper or begun treating debtors easier. To the contrary, from Tom’s perspective, Shizuo was now more ferocious during work. It might just be triggered when clients phrased their excuses a certain way, but it’s been the third day in a row where Shizuo’s throttled a man by his collar and yelled something akin to “You think my kid deserves to starve just because you’ve wasted all of your overdue payments on bullshit?!” He was actively breaking less property, sure, but his treatment of their debtors had grown rougher when they didn’t cough up immediately.

 

Tom hears the _whoosh_ and _schlunck_ before noticing that Shizuo had stopped walking alongside him. The blond’s glaring and grinding his teeth before he’s even turned to look over his shoulder at his attacker. Tom sighs heavily to himself, pulling out a smoke. _There’s the muck_ , he thinks.

 

“ _Izaya_.” Shizuo pulls the knife in his shoulder out, pressing his thumb to the flat side of the blade and snapping it in two. Izaya doesn’t seem at a loss, another already twirling in his fingers.

 

“How have things been, Shizu-chan?”

 

“Better when you weren’t fucking around!” Izaya smiles unfazed, resisting a far too easy comment that’d fly over the blond’s head anyway. “How many times have I told you to stay out of Ikebukuro!?”

 

“You can’t count that high, so what’s the point?”

 

“ _B_ _astard._ How about I break off all of your fingers and make you count ‘em as I shove ‘em down your throat?!”

 

“Was that meant to be a threat on my life?” He laughs, smile blooming into a grin. Shizuo’s easier to lead than a parade.

 

“If it wasn’t clear enough: _I’m gonna kill you_ _when I get my hands on you!_ ” The blond begins to charge down the alley. Despite his anger eclipsing his better thoughts, his mind registers that Izaya isn’t moving a muscle above the neck yet.

 

“Think your son will visit you in prison, Shizu-chan?” Shizuo stops dead in his tracks, still a few feet away from the other man, frozen in place like a statue. His eyes widen and he can read the red hot glowing malice in the brunet’s eyes as clear as a sunny day. “Think he’ll tell all of his classmates about his murderer daddy?”

 

“Of course you fucking know,” the blond says flatly. His fingers are curled so tightly into fists, the knuckles have gone white.

 

“Who doesn’t with Shizu-chan’s _big,_ _loud_ _mouth_ yelling about it all over the city? I’m counting down the minutes until something happens to the poor boy because of you.”

 

Shizuo’s posture straightens and eyes narrow before he fluidly walks up to the smaller man. Izaya’s never seen Shizuo’s eyes look so stony and cold and, despite feeling the chill rooting in his bones, he refuses to break their gaze. Inches apart, Shizuo leans down, using his full height to loom over Izaya.

 

His voice is even and quiet when he speaks. “If I even _think_ that you’ve involved my son in one of your schemes, there won’t be enough of you left to convict me with.”

 

Izaya exhales an uneasy laugh as his knife retracts with a _click_ , raising his hands with open palms and wiggling his fingers for added effect. “It’s not me that Papa Bear needs to be worrying about.”

 

“Why the fuck should I believe--” The brunet turns on his heels, walking down the alleyway with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “ _Oi!_ ”

 

“Shizu-chan better be ready to fight for him,” Izaya tosses over his shoulder as he leaves, looking back at Shizuo’s eyes one last time. Shizuo could chase, could’ve reached out, but he’s still with confusion, watching the retreating form go with perplexity. He had caught something in Izaya’s tone that was askew to him, something weighting in his eyes that were just _off_.

 

“Did that… Sound like a warning to you too,” he asks Tom as the man strolls up to his side.

 

He considers it and says, “As crazy as it sounds, kind of.”

 

* * *

 

Haruya Shiki, excused of all his men, sits opposite of Izaya Orihara. They both know why the yakuza has called the informant in.

 

“I don’t want the changes in your situation getting in the way of our usual business.”

 

Izaya scoffs to break the tension in his chest. “Shiki-san--”

 

“I personally don’t care to see kids get hurt, Orihara. All I have to make sure of is that you don’t go spilling Awakusu-kai secrets in exchange for his safety.”

 

The air feels as cold as ice despite the cramped space, Izaya’s fingers tremble in the confines of his coat pockets. His mind hesitates, looking for the best phrasing. “If you’re concerned about myself turning traitor--”

 

“I’m no fool, Orihara. Any parent worth a grain a salt would stab anyone’s back to make sure their kid’s safe, and I already know you well enough.”

 

Izaya’s lip press together and Shiki leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

 

“If you want some of my men on him, just say the word.”

 

The brunet’s voice is earnest when he says, “Thank you, Shiki-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait everyone! As of recent, I've had a medical procedure done and then fell into a depressive rut. I hope my mojo is returning with a vengeance and no one has noticed a drop in quality! (That's probably my greatest fear for my works, truth be told.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	9. The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo worries that he's not enough.

Kasuka was right, but what Shizuo didn’t anticipate was their mother asking “When are you bringing my grandson for a visit?” four times during one single phone-call. Of course, he had no answer for that. Delic still seemed uneasy with the topic of extended family yesterday. Taking him to meet his overeager grandmother too soon would be like throwing him to a wolf. Albeit one that only pinches cheeks and bakes. It wasn’t like he had much saved up for the two plane tickets anyway, especially now with all of the accommodations he has to make. Tom was more than happy to help and is already looking around and calling in favors just so Shizuo can find a two bedroom apartment. Eventually, his meager savings are going to be poured into new furniture, extra clothing, more food, and whatever else kids need. Uniforms, games and toys, internet? He’s not at that bridge to cross yet.

 

“Hi Shizuo,” Delic greets as he turns the hallway.

 

“Why aren’t you in your room?”

 

“I’m being signed out. Sensei said that without the brace, I can just heal the rest at home. Other people need the room.”

 

“That’s great.” Shizuo smiles, and then it crooks. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep my promise then.”

 

Delic’s legs that have been mindlessly swinging as he sits go limp. “What?”

 

“About the karaoke for when you got released,” Shizuo reminds him gently.

 

Delic’s lips twist and press, cheeks puffing and pinking. With the baby-fat still present in his face, he reminds the blond of a chipmunk. “ _Stupid_ ,” he blurts curtly. Shizuo gapes, having not expected to be insulted, however childishly. “What’re you apologizing for? We’ll just go later. I can’t hold a microphone with _these_ ,” Delic displays his fingers, “anyway.”

 

Shizuo’s lip twitches with fondness and familiarity. He doesn’t remember his younger self being so adorable. The physical resemblance is still fairly lost on him; every time he looks at his son, he just sees _Delic_. Maybe he’s just that blind, having seen his own face every day of his life, or maybe he doesn’t want to think of the kid as an extension of himself. Shizuo’s picked up reading parenting websites on his phone in his free-time and, apparently, that’s a problem some shitty parents have. He doesn’t get it, why’s it so hard to see a child as their own person?

 

The door clicks open, revealing the young boy’s guardian with a suitcase. “Oh, Shizuo-kun, hello. Would you be so kind?” Mari gestures the luggage forward, thanking him quietly when it’s passed over. “I’m relieved that you arrived early. I was positive that I would have to make two trips for this basket.”

 

“Basket?” Shizuo asks as the woman disappears back into the room to haul the large wicker thing out. The size rivaled the suitcase, heavily weighed down with twin bags of candy, numerous cases of CDs and DVDs, and a few boxes of figurines. “Kasuka,” he says without even having to think about it.

 

“To my nephew,” Delic recites the simple card from memory. “Is Uncle Kasuka rich?”

 

“Uhm, he’s a very busy actor and he doesn’t really splurge.”

 

“That’s so cool!”

 

“Let me,” Shizuo insists, motioning towards the basket. Mari passes it over eagerly, the weight of the gifts meaning far more to her than the man known for lifting fully stocked vending machines.

 

“You’ll be riding with us, I presume? Will you be staying for dinner?”

 

Shizuo fumbles for a second, his heartbeat quickening from elation. A broad smile appears instantly. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

 

“I want hamburger steak!” Delic hops off of his chair to fall alongside of the two as they leave.

 

The young woman titters a laugh, “Hamburger steak it is. You can show Shizuo-kun your room while I prepare dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Izaya clicks his tongue loudly as he peers through his binoculars. Perched on the roof of a nearby building, he watches the trio leaving. Delic’s talking about something animatedly, despite the splints and sling restricting his movements, and Shizuo’s smile seems perpetual.

 

It’s frustrating, every single aspect of it. How he’s stuck at a distance, how they’re all so _happy_ in their little mock nuclear family unit, how Shizuo gets _that look_ from Delic so easily. Izaya’s never hated anyone more in his life. His gut’s uneasy, watching the man buckle the disabled boy into the car and comb his fingers through his brown hair in a reassuring gesture. Izaya can remember clearly why he let that beast inside of him.

 

The brunet clicks his tongue again, shifting his legs and turning his eyes away to scan the surrounding area. “I hate you,” Izaya murmurs to himself. It will only be a matter of minutes before the Dollars forum and others like it blow up. Outside of the safe hospital room, photos will be taken and spread around. Izaya can already see the topic lines. _Shizuo Heiwajima Seen With Child!_ “Imbecile.”

 

* * *

 

The Harusawa residence is in an uppity neighborhood that’ll take Shizuo a train ride and a decent walk to get to from his place, not that he cares so much about the distance. Their building is lofty and their apartment is on one of the higher floors of the highrise. When Mari opens the front door and he sees their living quarters, Shizuo suddenly feels anxious and insecure. It doesn’t bleed wealth as much as it could, but compared to his own small apartment, cheap furniture, and worn things, it’s practically luxurious.

 

The living room is spacious. The couch and armchairs are plush and invitingly soft in appearance. The wall-mounted television is an almost obnoxious size, the short, wide cabinet underneath of it stocked full with gaming systems and cases. There’s a stereo with speakers bigger than the kitchenette chairs at his place, with four CD racks filled to the brim surrounding it. Shizuo’s scared to see the kitchen and bathroom now.

 

“You...said you were a nurse?” There’s absolutely no fucking way he believes that.

 

“I do a bit of everything nowadays,” Mari says quickly. Shizuo opens his mouth, but before he can speak she turns to Delic. “Why don’t you go show Shizuo-kun your room and he can help you unpack while I prepare dinner.”

 

“’Kay. C’mon!” Delic nods towards the stairs, charging up to his door excitedly. Shizuo grunts and follows. He’ll have to ask later.

 

There’s a little wooden sign painted with strawberries, musical notes, and Delic’s name on the door that clacks as it opens. The bedroom is bigger than he expects for a single child. Even with all of the _things_ coating the room, it doesn’t hide how it originally must have been meant for two. Posters for various medias pepper the walls. The bed’s oversized for a kid, pushed into one corner. Adjacent is a stockpile of stuffed animals with a beanbag chair in the middle. There’s another stereo, this one smaller, with three over-packed racks next to it. The bookshelf touches the ceiling in another corner, fully stocked with books and knick-knacks. An expensive computer sits on a desk with more this-es and thats and a glass case hangs on the wall above it. In the center sits a keyboard and stool, the same one he remembers from the photograph.

 

This kid’s been fucking _pampered_ and Shizuo knows he can’t give him a life like this.

 

“Are you okay?” Delic asks softly when Shizuo doesn’t walk in with him.

 

“I,” he starts and frowns deeply. Shizuo wants to always be honest with Delic, though the topic of money can be heavy for kids. “I don’t have as much money as you’re used to. I...can’t give you a lot of stuff like this.”

 

Delic’s nose crinkles as he mimics Shizuo’s frown. He looks around at his bedroom and his things and doesn’t see what Shizuo sees. “I don’t care.”

 

“Delic--”

 

The brunet shrugs, his voice apathetic when he talks. “A lot of this stuff is nice, but it’s mostly just garbage.”

 

“Wh-What?” Shizuo’s flabbergasted, not understanding what Delic’s saying. Isn’t his room filled with the things he loves, cherishes?

 

The little boy walks over to the bookshelf, raising his free arm to try and point out one particular figurine among the flock. “A friend of Miss Mari’s gave me this one, so it means something to me, but this one?” Delic tries to lift another figurine, the splints giving him trouble. Once he manages to grasp it, his arm rears back and, before Shizuo can stop him, the toy flies across the room and collides against the wall. The cheery magical girl snaps in two and falls somewhere behind the CD racks. “It’s garbage,” Delic says indifferently.

 

Shizuo’s mouth opens and closes hastily. He doesn’t want to chastise Delic for breaking something, even on purpose when he could help it. The severe display had made what he was trying to convey extraordinarily clear. “That still cost a lot of money and someone must’ve bought it for you too.”

 

“And now it’s trash, because it didn’t mean as much as another one does or as much as someone--” Delic’s words hiccup, his mouth snapping shut and lips pressing. He bows his head, trying to ignore how focused Shizuo’s eyes are on him, and his fingers grind the splints against one another. Talking so openly about how he feels is awkward, is scary, is unnatural. It takes so much effort. “As much as someone coming to see me,” he forces out quietly.

 

Shizuo can feel his heart seize and stop, growing heavy as if concrete has been poured inside of his veins and is solidifying. Loneliness creaks in the kid’s voice like the wood of an old house. He can’t stand how deeply set it seems and it makes the hollow ache forming in his chest expand.

 

Shizuo drops to his knees quickly. “C’mere.”

 

Delic’s toes fidget in his socks. His eyes trained on the floor, too scared to rise up. The blond waits patiently and silently, as still as a statue. A minute passes and, sure enough, the little boy runs across the room and into his arms. Delic buries his head into the crook of Shizuo’s neck as Shizuo wraps his arms around him. He’s afraid to squeeze Delic closer, despite how much he yearns to.

 

“Fuck,” the blond whispers. “Wanted to do this since I first saw you.”

 

Delic stays quiet, save for some sharp inhaling and sniffling, leaning more into Shizuo and all of the warmth and comfort he’s radiating.

 

“I don’t want you to feel like that anymore. If I’m all that you need, then you’ve always got me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now boarding for the express train to Hell.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	10. (Phases of) The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic's other parent shows through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference note: Moonlight Legend, otherwise known as Moonlight Densetsu, is the theme song of Sailor Moon.

Shizuo switches back and forth between rubbing Delic’s back and petting his hair. Delic’s breathing has evened and his potential crying has stopped but he doesn’t seem to want to part and, god, neither does Shizuo, though his knees are beginning to ache from his position on the carpet.

 

He presses a kiss atop of the brunet’s head, murmuring into his hair. “I’m gonna stand up, but I’ve got you, okay?”

 

“’Kay.”

 

Shizuo readjusts his hold, picking up the little boy weightlessly as he rises. Delic leans in more, unable to help by holding on. As Delic re-relaxes in his arms, Shizuo continues looking around the room.

 

The kid _really_ likes pink, the color is practically bathing the room. Coating everything from the stuffed animals to the random knick-knacks to the bed spread. The walls are the softest, an easy on the eyes pale shade. White accents the rest, the furniture stark and sterile in hue. Shizuo recognizes bits and pieces of Delic’s things. The posters and figurines from his kid’s favorite anime. There’s one poster of Ruri by the stereo and another with Kasuka from Delic’s professed favorite film by the bookcase. It’s only when he averts his eyes from the romantic posing that he realizes that the box hung above the computer is a glass trophy case. A few figurines have been placed inside to make it appear less bare, but, sure enough, there are three golden statues.

 

Shizuo blinks before walking over to read the text. Delic talked about school with some subdued boredom but generally average interest, he didn’t come across as competitive at all to Shizuo. He assumed the kid was roped into taking part in some of them. He didn’t expect the brunet to have anything from his competitions, especially in gold.

 

Junior Piano, last year. Junior Piano, this year. Junior Mathalon, this year. “ _First place_ ,” the blond astonishes. Each plaque claims the same two words. Shizuo wasn’t _that_ smart, especially not as a child. Even if it’s not coming from his DNA per se, his chest is swelling with pride. His son is damn talented, what’s there not to be proud of?

 

“What?” Delic asks, turning his head to see what his father’s surprised by. He makes a short noise of understanding, his next word blasé. “Ahuh.”

 

“Just _a_ _huh_?”

 

“The memories are pretty cool, but those are just plastic,” Delic shrugs against Shizuo.

 

The blond holds his back with one hand to keep him upright while he leans back to exchange looks. Shizuo tries to scan the open, honest eyes looking back into his for something more, but there’s nothing. The kid just doesn’t seem to hold much sentimentality for a lot of objects, even the ones he earned on his own.

 

“Harusawa-san said that she recorded everything, do you know where those DVDs might be?”

 

“In a case under the TV downstairs.”

 

Shizuo doesn’t waste time, turning straight for the door. “She also said that you’d wanna watch ‘em with me.”

 

“Okay!” The cheery pep is back in his voice and it triggers more warmth to bloom in Shizuo’s chest, an easy smile forming.

 

“But not the mathalon; it’s _so_ boring!” The brunet tries to make a show of flopping forward into Shizuo’s chest, failing miserably with his arms disadvantaged. Shizuo laughs regardless, Delic’s cheek feeling the gentle rumbling and blushing.

 

“We’ll watch that one first to get it over with then.”

 

“ _No!_ ” He squirms, kicking the air as Shizuo steps off of the stairs.

 

It takes Shizuo a bit to figure out the television and DVD set up, even with Delic’s help, but, soon enough, the first recording is ready to play. The blond takes his spot on the couch next to the brunet, who immediately scoots close enough for their bodies to press.

 

The play button is pressed and the video starts on the large screen. The camera quality is high for a home movie, not that Shizuo’s complaining. Delic’s crystal clear on screen, sitting behind a table labeled with his school’s name and emblem with four other children, in a little white suit and pink button-up. The shot keeps focus on him and the boards in center stage, Shizuo has to assume that there are five other children on the opposite side. The teacher hosting introduces themselves and each child before stating the simple rules. _Final two schools_ and _the team with the most points wins_ , he gets it and the kids look visually bored with hearing the same things for probably the umpteenth time.

 

The first large poster board is removed by two teachers, revealing the equation. On screen, Delic’s eyes sharpen and dart to the question. On the couch where he doesn’t have to turn his head to read it, Delic says, “Two hundred and eighty six.

 

The host makes it through half of the question before the kid’s shot his hand out to ring the bell in front of him. _Ding!_ “Two hundred and eighty six.”

 

The host is perturbed at being interrupted, but nonetheless says, “That’s correct.”

 

Shizuo’s hand lifts to gently scrub through Delic’s hair. “Hey!”

 

“Harusawa-san, you’ve been told not to answer before the question has been finished before. First warning.” Delic’s eyes narrow minutely, barely picked up on screen. As the host turns away to gesture for the next question, the brunet aggressively sticks his tongue out at them. A laugh bubbles out of Shizuo as one of the other kids at the table cover their mouth to stifle a giggle.

 

The next question comes. “Three thousand, one hundred, and seventeen.” _Ding!_ “Three thousand, one hundred, and seventeen.”

 

“Correct.”

 

Delic, leaning back into the couch and Shizuo, shares his on-screen expression of boredom and utter disinterest. Shizuo looks back and forth between the two as the next question is being revealed. With how rapidly Delic’s getting the equations, on screen and off, Shizuo’s begun to think that smart is too weak of a word. Shizuo’s not concerned about where he gets it, he’s just ecstatic over the fact that with brains and talent, Delic’s future is looking far brighter than his own was at his age. With Delic’s mind, body, and interests, it’s no wonder the kid seems to have no friends.

 

“You’re not having fun,” Shizuo points out.

 

“Math is _so boring_! It’s _too easy_!”

 

“I’m sorry.” He combs his fingers through the brunet’s hair. “I get that you don’t like it, but you’ve got something special, Delic. Don’t get lazy in your classes just because it’s easy for you, okay?”

 

The little boy blushes and tries to hide half of his face in Shizuo’s shirt. That word, _special_ , gets used a lot around him. Sometimes praising, sometimes derogatory. Adults seem to lack any other descriptor for him. He wants to tell his writing teacher to recommend the other teachers a thesaurus for once. Being _special_ blows. At most it gets him _things_ and at worst it keeps other people at a distance.

 

“I don’t _want_ to be special, I just want...” Positive attention from his peers? People that care for him? People that can relate to him? To relate to others? To be understood? Normalcy and whatever the hell _that_ means? He doesn’t entirely know, and how can he? He’s still just a child despite everything.

 

Delic can’t finish his sentence, so Shizuo pauses the video. He slides off of the couch and onto the floor to remove the height difference between them. There’s nowhere the brunet can really hide now with their new positions.

 

“I get it.” Shizuo’s hand rises to cup one of Delic’s cheeks, to soothingly stroke his skin with his thumb and to make sure that Delic keeps staring back. “One day, I hope it doesn’t hurt anymore, but for now… We have each other.”

 

Delic’s lips press and twist, trying to hold back more potential tears. He loathes crying, he never wants to do it. It only makes him snotty, his throat ache-y, and his head throb. The moment’s going to be seared into his memory just as another did. When thinner fingers cupped his face on both cheeks and their face was close enough for eskimo kisses even though he’s said he hates that _so_ many times.

 

“Some day your talents and skills are going to make tons of people flock to you. But of course, who else does Deli-chin need when he already has _my_ enthralling company right now?” One hand retracted to press to their chest with a flourish, eyelids fluttering for extra show.

 

“Someone with better music taste,” he had said, poking fun at their mental library of children’s TV show theme songs. Izaya couldn’t manage to look convincingly offended before breaking out into a nasally rendition of Moonlight Legend.

 

“ _That doesn’t count! That doesn’t count!_ ”

 

“Yeah,” Delic says softly to Shizuo. “I guess that’s enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, more was supposed to happen in this chapter, but as it got longer and the beats it was hitting became finalizing, I decided to hold off on more for the next chapter. At least I finally got to make Izaya more dorky!
> 
> I'm the ramble-y type of writer with my author notes sometimes, but I also like reading about other writers' and their processes and the ideas they considered and threw out. So, fun fact time for all those interested! For a very brief period of time, I considered writing Delic as trans as well in this fic. I quickly threw the idea out, Delic's character is added slightly more depth with traditionally frowned upon interests for his gender and I never wanted to write any transphobic bullying to being with in this fic. It also allows Shizuo and Izaya something to discuss (see: argue) with others in public and be supportive of together. I suppose I have something fun to explore in a oneshot in the future. (Also, I'm totally doing oneshots for this fic after its completion. I'm a complete sucker for good parent fics and the art is always adorable.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	11. The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo's first night with Delic continues.

Shizuo finishes the DVD of the mathalon with Delic still plastered to his side. Spoiled for the end result, he still enjoyed watching his child answer every question correctly until the teachers forced Delic to back down some and let the other children answer for a change. His kid was smart, _really_ smart, and it was exciting to watch despite the dull subject.

 

Shizuo’s delicate with the disc when it slides out of the player, returning it to its case and looking over at the two marked _Junior Piano_. He wants to start with the one from last year, that way he can see the improvements from the leap in time. Not that he really knows jack-shit about music in general, much less the technicals. As he puts the disc in, Delic straightens his posture on the couch. The brunet’s attention has sharpened, far more interested in re-watching his musical performances than he was with his mathematical.

 

The blond returns to his seat, now with an elbow nudging his side. “Turn it up!”

 

His lip twitches upwards. “Okay, okay.”

 

The video starts with a glossy black grand piano in center stage, freshly polished and reflecting the light beaming down onto it. There’s only two spotlights standing out amongst the dim lighting, one on the player-less piano and the other following the formally dressed announcer. They introduce the next performer, a younger, slightly smaller Delic determinedly breezing past them with a curt bow, little white and pink suit now equipped with a matching pink bow-tie. They announce the piece he’s going to play for them, something in maybe English that Shizuo doesn’t understand or recognize. The host walks off-stage as the brunet takes his seat, their spotlight flipping off.

 

The little boy is a petite white figure blending in with the ivories of the ebony mass. Delic’s fingers twitch as he poises them above the keys. The camera and it’s excellent quality manages to capture the glimmering of his dilating eyes as he assesses the impressive musical instrument in front of him. The brunet runs his tongue over his lips before striking the first note.

 

The music starts slow, the child lightly striking each key with purpose in a strict yet meandering rhythm. It looks simple enough to Shizuo, but amazing all the same. He never took a music class in school, far too fearful of what his hands would do to the instruments and the bills his parents would have to pay for. Watching others perform, especially his son with the same growing strength, is mesmerizing. Dots of higher keys are being peppered in with each loop of the set beat, the range widening and pace quickening. The piece is crescendoing, higher notes being struck like bolts of lightning crashing down. The gentle melody that had invoked a pleasant walk through a forest in the blond is starting to catch fire. Delic’s arm reaches out with rapid purpose, fingers hitting lower notes that ring out with a sudden heaviness like trees toppling over.

 

Shizuo blinks, he can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Delic’s fingers began to move too fast for him to keep up with _and_ enjoy and listen to the piece fully. The brunet on screen has his head bowed, eyes aimed on the keys but wholly unfocused into the air. His movements are robotic in memorized rhythm, head still as his hands go exactly where they need to without visual reference. Delic’s as blank as a slate, with only the tiniest upturn of his lips to portray his feelings in the moment. He’s zoned out, honed into the music flowing out of the piano like the rain of a downpour. If nirvana really is achievable, Shizuo thinks Delic has found and reached his.

 

“Holy shit, kid,” the blond breathes out, mouth beginning to gape as the music seems to stabilize in its faster pace.

 

“ _Shh!_ ” Delic’s immediate shushing is sharp and clipped, and it makes Shizuo’s mouth snap shut with a _clack_ of his top and bottom teeth connecting.

 

The piece eventually ends with a glissando, his fingers sliding across the keys for the scale. Delic’s hands hover above the keys as the final notes echo their last whispers around the room. Shizuo hadn’t bothered to make a guess at how large of an audience was there in the school auditorium until the crisp silence that followed the piece is broken with clapping. The camera’s microphone is blown out a tad, seated in the middle of it all. The brunet has to get up then, turning around to face the audience. Even after all of the photographs he’s seen, Shizuo’s only seen Delic beam this brightly once before. His grin is stretched wide enough to reach his ears and his cheeks are hued pink from exertion. Delic fidgets in place after he bows. He doesn’t want to leave, though he has to now, as the announcer walks back on stage. Right there with the grand piano is where he wants to be, where he _belongs_.

 

The video skips to the award ceremony after the kid finally walks off stage and Shizuo leans forward, elbows on his knees and a hand covering his mouth as he thinks. There’s so much floating around in his head that he wants to say that, ultimately, he’s at a loss for words. Ambience from the kitchen filters in to break the silence and Delic’s lips twist with uncertainty as it persists.

 

Shizuo’s mouth opens minutely and then closes. His fingers curl away from his lips as he turns his head to the little boy. Delic feels his heart freeze with the weight of his father’s eyes on him. The raw adoration and awe swirling in those warm honey brown eyes make him feel hot and awkward. Delic wishes he could play with his fingers to distract himself from the airy feeling in his chest.

 

“That was beautiful,” Shizuo finally manages to whisper, “and… _Really_ impressive. I… _Shit._ ” He licks his lips, struggling to find what to say. DNA test or not, if the kid didn’t share his physical attributes, Shizuo wouldn’t believe that _this person_ came from _him_.

 

“I’m sorry. About your hands.” As stupid as it is, he’s starting to feel responsible and guilty. “It really shows that you love playing.” The future’s suddenly scary again; with the possibilities that the brunet will share his struggles with control and lose the thing he so clearly loves with his entire being. Shizuo would hate himself to no end if that happened and he was unable to stop it.

 

Delic offers a little shrug. “It’s whatever.” It’s not though. “It’s happened before, and they just come back stronger than before--”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softly.

 

The brunet presses and rolls his lips. He feels left out of something important, some detail he doesn’t know about that’d make everything make way more sense. Delic doesn’t have enough experience with self-deprecating behaviors to get where Shizuo’s coming from with his apologies. He decides to deal with it the way he knows that works best: diversion.

 

“Would you get me some strawberry milk?”

 

Shizuo nods and gets up without hesitation.

 

The doorway to the kitchen is only closed off by a cloth that only reaches down to his waist and passing through is enough for the scents drifting out of the room to fully collide into Shizuo. Grilled beef, steamed rice and mixed vegetables, and – _shit_ , that gravy looks one hundred percent homemade. Home-cooked meals can never be topped in his book. Shizuo has positive memories of helping his mother as much as possible in the kitchen, ones he’d like to replicate now that he’s thinking about it. Cooking every meal and snack they share together, just father and son. He’s not an amazing chef but he cooks, his budget allows for fresh ingredients. Shizuo’s no idiot, he knows that he can’t live off of convenience foods for every meal. He’s got a cookbook _somewhere_ that his mother had bought him upon moving out. He never really needed it, having picked up enough on his own growing up. This setting is as best as any to ask Delic what he likes to eat aside from what he already knows.

 

Dinner is practically ready by the looks of it and he’s done nothing to help in exchange for the free meal, so he offers, “Anything I can do? Set the table or…?”

 

The young woman smiles politely at the proposition and gestures the blond to the correct cabinets, “I’d greatly appreciate it, Shizuo-kun.”

 

“Least I can do for now. Allow me do the dishes too.”

 

“Oh no, I can’t. You’re a guest.”

 

Having heard the two adults conversing pleasantly, Delic pads into the kitchen, sneaking glances at the plates being served. The brunet opens his mouth before Shizuo can rebut her refusal.

 

“Miss Mari, I don’t like broccoli!”

 

“If you don’t eat all of your vegetables, the dessert I picked up in anticipation of you coming home will go to waste.”

 

Delic deflates. They both know that the threat is only viable because he’s handicapped at the moment.

 

* * *

 

Shizuo’s absolutely, one hundred percent positive that he wants _this_ every night for the rest of his life. Or, at the very least, until it’s unrealistic. Eating dinner with and sitting next to son, discussing lighthearted topics as the boy smiles with him. His chest is overflowing with the warm domesticity of it. He doubts that he can cook food as outrageously delicious or afford desserts that look so expensive, but those are the unconcerning details. Shizuo’s _happy_ and Delic’s _happy_ , and those are the only important factors to both of them.

 

“I like salmon a whole lot, but I think I’d still want a hamburger over sushi.”

 

“You need to watch your grease intake, Delic.” Mari chides gently.

 

“I know!” The brunet rolls his eyes and Shizuo laughs softly. It’s not like he sneaks fries or anything with his milkshakes! He’d never hear the end of it from Miss Mari or Izaya if he did so.

 

Reminded of the young man, Delic comments, “Miss Mari’s friend says that fish is brain food.” The mentioned woman examines him at the mention of her “friend”, rising from her seat to begin clearing the table. “Says it’ll make me even smarter.”

 

“Anymore and your brain might come outta of your ears,” the blond jokes and Delic snorts into his strawberry milk. “It doesn’t work like that!”

 

Shizuo leans in while brushing away the hair by Delic’s ear, pretending to deeply peer into the canal. “I dunno, kiddo, I _think_ I do see something.”

 

“Stop! You’re messing up my hair!” Delic jerks away with a smile weakly hidden in his stern expression. Shizuo presses a kiss into his hair before acquiescing, stroking through the brunet’s hair with his fingers as he leans back. Delic fixedly stares down at the cake crumbs on his plate, face flushed red from the treatment.

 

“Is that who drew those?” Shizuo points to one of the black inked cats on Delic’s casts. There’s one somewhere on each cast, but the one the blond zeros in on is the cat with a fish flopping out of its jaws.

 

“Mhmm,” he hums. Izaya has always drawn them on all of his casts. “I think he really likes cats.”

 

Shizuo stares at the little drawing as his mind drifts to the day’s previous events. It’s unwarranted, but the thought of an unknown man around his son is screwing with the blond’s good mood. He loathes the idea of ruining Delic’s night with a talk about shitty people, but his safety is Shizuo’s priority too. Delic’s already been given the stranger danger talk and that shit for sure by now, but there’s no way he’s been given a talk about Izaya Orihara yet.

 

Shizuo rises from his chair to walk around and squat next to Delic, still seated in his own. Shizuo’s expression is suddenly too grave compared to how they’ve been and Delic’s almost scared, his full stomach churning. His voice is more authoritative than the brunet has yet to hear and it makes his spine tingle uncomfortably when the older man talks.

 

“We have to talk about something – _someone_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big updates for big boys! This was meant to be uploaded hours ago, but alas, life calls sometimes. I didn't anticipate how long we'd be with Shizuo and Delic on their first night together. In hindsight, how silly of me! This has ended up a bit like a low-key three or four parter. I almost feel bad with how little time Izaya's gotten. I guess I don't have to ask how much everyone is anticipating the next chapter though. Uh, tissues in advance maybe? At least there's still plenty of fluff for the soul.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	12. How Are You to Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic learns about Izaya Orihara from Shizuo.

The wood of Delic’s chair softly creaks with protest as he leans back in to it. He can’t put distance between them with Shizuo on the floor next to him and he knows that if he moves from his chair then his dad will know he’s uncomfortable for certain.

 

“There’s this man that’s been in my life for a long time,” Shizuo starts with some light hesitation.

 

“I don’t care if you’re gay,” Delic interjects casually.

 

“ _What--_ no! I’m not dating anyone; this isn’t about _that_ , it’s about a guy that constantly tries to mess up my and other peoples’ lives and might try to get you involved in dangerous shit to hurt me.” Shizuo reaches out to reassuringly stroke his knee. “I don’t wanna scare you, but I have to tell you so that you know to be careful.”

 

“I’m not scared.” The blond can tell he’s being honest. Even without knowing about all of the things Delic has broken, Shizuo understands that the kid’s not exactly gonna be frightened of an adult he could snap the arm of. But the people Izaya would send aren’t run of the mill perverts with candy.

 

“His name is Izaya Orihara,” Delic’s heart seizes as Shizuo grinds out the name distastefully, “and he’s extremely dangerous.”

 

The brunet’s fingers twitch and he’s trying to send all of his concentration to his expression and lungs so nothing seems off. It appears to be working, as Shizuo continues on.

 

“He’s a few feet shorter than me. Short black hair, brown eyes. I’ve never seen him out of the shitty fur trimmed coats he wears.”

 

“Why,” Delic suddenly asks, barely above a whisper.

 

“What?”

 

“Why is he dangerous?”

 

Shizuo’s eyebrows tick down as his lips thin. Talking about Izaya disgusts him and his stomach would prefer to digest in peace, but he’s got to lay out everything crystal clear for the kid. “He runs around with Yakuza and he’s made his hobby and job out of messing around with and screwing up peoples’ heads and their lives. He’s constantly doing that shit, playing around with people like they’re toys. Acts like he’s a god and it doesn’t matter who gets hurt in his shitty schemes as long as he’s amused by their struggling and suffering.”

 

The brunet’s heartbeat is picking up quickly. He doesn’t want to believe anything that Shizuo’s saying, but he’s so honest and even Izaya said so when he asked and he has no reason to not trust his father, he’s never been given a single reason not to. This can’t be the truth, but-- Delic wishes he could press his hands against his ears, maybe hard enough to stop his brain from thinking. He’s never been given a reason not to trust Izaya either, why would anyone back up the honesty of someone that would slander them so horrifically? He even warned Delic about Shizuo’s hatred for him, but he didn’t answer any of Delic’s questions either, he had practically outright refused to. This _can’t_ be the truth, _but_ \-- The splints on his fingers are beginning to creak as his fingers press together and twitch in reflex to curl. His mind is swirling and swimming with a hurricane of thoughts he doesn’t want to be having. His body wants to break something despite its medical trappings. Delic’s breathing has hitched, but his face must not be giving anything away because Shizuo doesn’t look concerned, he still looks like he’s talking about the foulest thing on earth and that just can’t be the Izaya Delic knows that he’s talking about, but Shizuo got the coats right. _This can’t be the truth, but--_ The brunet can’t shake his head and he can’t make a fist to smash into anything, he doesn’t have anything to smash even if he could. His chest is beginning to feel compressed and he might have forgotten to pay attention to the rhythm of his breathing, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know; how can he? With the way his stomach is churning and tightening, he might vomit up his first meal at home after his stay at the hospital. He has to blink – a lot, he doesn’t know if he _has_ to, but he thinks he does? No, no, he can’t think because--

 

_This can’t be the truth, but how can he know that for sure?_

 

Delic can’t. Not for certain. No matter what memory he tries to recall to tell his mind that no, Izaya can’t be like that, there’s absolutely no way he can prove it to squash that conclusion into nonexistence. Izaya shows up at his house sometimes, or visits him when he’s broken something, and then he leaves. He doesn’t take Delic places or even pick him up from school, the brunet has no frame of reference for the man outside of his home or medical quarters. Even if Shizuo’s hatred is screwing with his view of the other man, Delic doesn’t know anything else otherwise. People can be wrong though, _Shizuo_ can be wrong. It’s enough metaphorical glue to keep him in one piece.

 

Shizuo can’t see his son’s mental turmoil and continues, voice still serious. “If you ever see him: run. If he tries to talk to you or touch you: scream, as loud as you can, and use whatever you have to to get away. Just, _please_ tell me immediately and I’ll go crush him like the shitty insect he is.”

 

Delic’s mouth opens slightly as his eyes narrow in more thought. He has to inhale and swallow before he can even speak, his voice quiet. “You’d hurt him?”

 

“It’s the least I’d do if he ever tries to get you hung up in one of his games.” Shizuo is firm and resolute and it makes the brunet’s mouth twist with visible discomfort. He understands where his father is coming from and if it were anyone else, he’d be completely fine with it. But he’s talking about Izaya and the worst thing Delic can come up with that he’s ever done to him is deny him a dessert.

 

“Delic,” Shizuo tries softly, reading his face.

 

“I’m _not_ scared.”

 

“I know, you kinda look--”

 

“I need to use the bathroom, may I?”

 

“Well, yeah, but--” The little boy’s scooted off of the chair, briskly walking to the bathroom before Shizuo can even finish a single sentence. He opens his mouth once more to call it out, but Delic's quicker.

 

“Can I have some more strawberry milk too?”

 

“Yeah,” the blond says to himself as the door closes. He wasn’t finished, he wasn’t allowed to finish. Shizuo rises with a sigh and scrubs his face with a hand. His eyes fixate on the empty glass, still on the table from dinner, as he thinks. He likes milk when he’s sad too.

 

* * *

 

Mari’s still washing dishes in the kitchen when Shizuo walks in. Delic deserves his space to calm down, even if he doesn’t know what the kid’s upset over. Pressuring the little boy will only make things worse. So now is the perfect time to ask all of those questions he pocketed for later.

 

“This place is kind of expensive for a former school nurse and a single mother.”

 

The young woman glances at him while setting another dish to dry. “You think so? I don’t believe that we live so extravagantly.”

 

Shizuo’s eyes narrow and he sets down the empty glass in his hand to keep from possibility breaking it. Talking about Izaya has made him twice as suspicious of her, even if they’re not connected. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, really, but cut the shit lady.”

 

Mari stops what she’s doing to look over at his stern expression. She’s lightly startled at his abruptness, but she had expected to be cornered and questioned eventually. “If however you’re paying for all of this puts my kid I danger, it’s my number one issue.”

 

“Goodness, _no_.” The young woman has lies prepared for this. Shizuo Heiwajima cannot, under any circumstance, find out that Izaya Orihara pays for everything in the apartment, from the utilities to the food he just ate.

 

“My husband and I were trying...” She trails off gingerly, as if the topic is a depressing one for her, and momentarily presses her hand to her mouth in a visible act to calm herself. “But we could never manage, and then he passed in a car accident.”

 

Shizuo keeps staring. He doesn’t know the woman enough to know for certain if she’s telling him the truth or lying to his face, but he doesn’t have cause to not believe her story. It makes sense she’d want to adopt, even though she’d have to raise the child alone. Life insurance can’t be enough to pay for all of this plus a child though.

 

Mari seems to sense what he’s thinking, continuing with a lighter, happier tone. “My father passed away, naturally, before my husband and left us a large sum to assist in our endeavor. My dad was the type to want his grandchildren spoiled.”

 

The blond watches her hiccup and cover her mouth again, her lashes fluttering away tears. She looks genuine enough and it’s making him a tad uncomfortable for resurfacing her trauma by demanding answers. “I’m sorry for your losses,” Shizuo says softly.

 

“Thank you. I still got to raise a little one like I’ve always wanted though. Children are far from little angels, but I’ve always adorned them as such.”

 

Shizuo’s mouth twitches at the fond tone. The sudden fierce sickness in the pit of his stomach is pure cut jealousy. He’s happy for her and for Delic, who deserved someone that loved him and his very existence to take care of him. But Shizuo wasn’t there and he won’t get that time back, all of those experiences he considers precious and important that he wasn’t apart of. It hurts to think about what he’s missed out on, far worse than any physical damage he’s been through. He has to be happy that he’s here now and he is, but it doesn’t lessen the sting.

 

“I must say, I do miss nursing at my elementary school. Now that you’re around and want to take Delic, Shizuo-kun, I could reapply.”

 

“You’d… Just give him to me?”

 

Mari presses her hand on his arm in a gentle gesture. “You’re his father and you love him dearly, I _can’t_ separate the two of you. I would _hate_ myself.”

 

“Start slow,” the young woman suggests. “Weekends together, so he can sleep here and be closer to his school on weekdays. Then, in time, ask him what he would like. You said you were looking for a place so he could have his own room?”

 

Shizuo nods, picking up the glass again to refill it. “And someplace that’ll let me repaint the walls pink.”

 

Mari titters a laugh, it bubbling out louder when the blond asks, “Is soundproofing difficult?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear that Delic's big paragraph there might confuse a few people. I wanted to convey his overworking mind as he wants to keep himself from thinking the obvious. Anywho, there's a bit of background sprinkled in this, though probably obviously concluded ones. I also didn't realize how big of a role Mari would have in this, I'm glad I've gotten the opposite of complaints about it.
> 
> Apologies for the wait, it was longer than I even like. I've been through some emotional turmoil of my own as well as a cold. Anyway... If I said that I was laughing a bit manically about next chapter, I would probably worry some of you. Oopsie!
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	13. People Who Aren’t Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Delic's first night together ends and Izaya gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no actual warnings for this chapter, I just wanted to preface to confirm that I am, in fact, a demon that feasts on tears.
> 
> Translation Note: Ikura Maki are sushi rolls topped with salmon eggs.

Shizuo exits the kitchen with the full glass of strawberry milk when he hears the toilet flush. Delic looks okay to him when he walks out of the bathroom, but he still had made the kid upset about something and he wants to apologize. Maybe Delic will even talk about it, though Shizuo doubts that with his behavior. The little boy nestles himself back onto the couch as Shizuo sets the glass on the coffee-table and squats on the floor in front of him.

 

“I don’t know what I said that made you sad or upset,” he starts, straight to the point.

 

“I wasn’t--”

  
“Shh,” the blond shushes gently. “Let me finish, okay?”

 

Delic presses his lips together and nods once. Shizuo offers back a small smile, reaching forward to stroke through the brunet’s hair and down to cup his cheek.

 

“All I want is for you to be happy and safe. You won’t always be both, especially with growing up and with me around, but I’m not gonna stop trying to keep you both. Whatever it was, I want you to know that that’s where I’m coming from. It’s important that we both talk about our feelings and why we do and say things when we apologize for upsetting one another.” Shizuo’s thumb idly strokes Delic’s cheek. His eyes are faintly strained, as if the little boy had teared up but didn’t allow himself to outright cry. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

 

The brunet’s eyes widen and dart away as his face flushes. He presses his hands against his legs to create pressure elsewhere and mitigate some of it out of his chest. His lips twitch this way and that and his mouth opens and moves in small, aborted motions. Somehow, Delic manages to force out a murmured, “I love you too.”

 

Shizuo’s face blooms pink, the corners of his mouth lifting as joy lights up his eyes and fills his chest. The words have shot him straight through the heart. “Y-Yeah? That-- _Shit._ ” He can’t control himself in the moment and, frankly, he doesn’t want to. His hands move impulsively, grabbing hold of Delic’s legs to slide him to the edge of the couch so his arms can wrap around his little boy. Delic immediately buries his face into Shizuo’s shoulder, hoping to hide the matching shade on his face.

 

One day his kid’s gonna be thirteen or sixteen or some other rebellious number and hugging your dad is gonna be lame or awkward or _whatever_ , so Shizuo’s not going to hold back on stocking them up now. Hell, will he even _be_ stopped when that time comes? Probably not. He can’t think of _anything else_ in this world that makes him feel _so right_.

 

They’re both absolutely fine to just stay like this. Shizuo can rubs as many of those little circles into Delic’s back as he likes and Delic’s content breathing in the scents of tobacco and the city that has soaked and settled into Shizuo’s clothes.

 

“Are you gonna spend the night?” The brunet eventually asks, muffled against the fabric of Shizuo’s vest.

 

The blond frowns. “I’ve got work tomorrow and I don’t have any of my things here to get ready, but I’ll pack and be here tomorrow night.”

 

Delic hums in response, fidgeting and getting more comfortable against Shizuo. He doesn’t ask him to promise, he doesn’t need to.

 

* * *

 

Izaya’s taken to keeping the disposable phone that connects to Delic and Mari in his pocket. There’s not really a reason for him to do so, it’s just… Something about it being there makes him feel a bit better inside. If anything, it’s stupid and selfish of him. If the phone is stolen from his person and the thief looks up the only two numbers on its contacts, he’ll have put Delic in danger. Izaya never expects it to ring, so when it suddenly vibrates against his leg while he’s typing up some work on his computer, he almost jumps. Fear and worry are the first to arrive and fog up his thoughts, his heart moving to settle in his throat.

 

The brunet scoots his chair back to pull out the device. The number on screen isn’t the one he’s used to seeing and his frantic fingers rush to accept the call.

 

“Deli-chin?”

 

“Hi, Izaya.” His voice is uncharacteristically timid and it’s setting off a loud bell in Izaya’s head. “Are you busy?”

 

“Well, yes,” he answers smoothly. “But not so much that I can’t make time for you.”

 

_Why are you calling? You never call. Why are you upset? Who upset you? Oh god, you’re actually calling for me?_

 

“Do you wanna come over for lunch and stuff?”

 

Izaya’s mouth gapes like a fish for a beat. “Sure. I can be there in a little bit.” After about twenty-five to thirty minutes of walking in circles around the city. “Are you alright, Deli-chin?”

 

“Yeah. I guess I’m just...” He exhales against the speaker, sending a short surge of static into Izaya’s ear. The informant’s already saving documents and booting his system down as the line goes silent. When Delic finally speaks again, he’s whispering away from the receiver. “I think I’m lonely and I wanna see you.”

 

_Me?_

 

Izaya’s heart drops back down to where it belongs to beat steadily. “I’ll pick us up something special to eat,” he offers.

 

“You mean sushi.”

 

“Did I say sushi,” the brunet teasingly asks.

 

“You _always_ mean sushi.” Delic’s playing up the sad dip in his voice. “You _never_ bring hamburgers or pizza.”

 

Izaya chuckles. “Is Deli-chin attempting to wheedle junk food out of me?”

 

“It’s easier when you can see my face.” The young man laughs again. He’s not wrong, but at least Delic hasn’t perfected that puppy dog look yet. It’s not as if the little boy doesn’t get everything else he wants anyway. “See you soon.”

 

* * *

 

“Deli-chin,” Izaya sing-songs after letting himself into the apartment. He’s slipped out of shoes and coat and has started setting the to-go boxes on the coffee-table when the little boy pads down from his bedroom.

 

Izaya smiles as he’s approached, fully expecting a comment from Delic about being right about the sushi and some excitement over the petite pink bakery box. Instead, the food’s entirely ignored and the smaller brunet closes in with an attempt to hug the older man despite his sling and casts making it an awkward and difficult task.

 

“Delic,” Izaya inquires softly, placing a hand on top of the little boy’s head to smooth his hair as his face presses against Izaya’s stomach.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He’s positive that something’s deeply wrong now. “You should tell me about what happened.”

 

Delic shakes his head, Izaya’s shirt rubs against his skin with the motion. Izaya sighs and pats his head, withdrawing from the smaller body trying to stick to him like glue to sit on his knees. He gently cups Delic’s face to lift his chin up and get a better look at his sad brown eyes. Izaya’s lips press together momentarily as he takes in the expression, his chest beginning to steadily throb.

 

“I got you some ikura maki along with your usual salmon, Deli-chin.” He says in effort to take the little boy’s mind off of whatever that has him so strung up. “No greasy junk food, but I did decide to pick you up a slice of strawberry shortcake.”

 

Delic’s lips slowly upturn, his eyes lifting to look at Izaya fully. “Thank you.”

 

The informant smiles back, releasing his face to card fingers through his hair. “Anything to make you happy.”

 

Delic gathers his thoughts, his fingers fidgeting in the splints and sliding against one another with a muted sanding noise. “Do you… When they take off my casts and junk, do you wanna go out for karaoke or… Or a movie?”

 

Izaya’s expression falls, Delic’s eyes are wide and hopeful and he knows that he can’t say yes to please his son even though he wants to. “I’m sorry, Delic. You know how busy my work keeps me.”

 

Delic’s lips thin, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in the corners with anger. “You _just said_ anything. And earlier; that you _could_ make time.”

 

“Lunches are one thing, but--”

 

“ _But?!_ ” Izaya’s mouth snaps closed, his teeth clicking as they connect hastily. “You come over and spend the night often enough! I never know when you’ll show up, you just show up whenever _you_ want!”

 

Izaya’s heart lurches with a squeeze, feeling as though hands are tightly gripping it with a murderous intent. Delic’s teeth are grit, tears spilling down his cheeks. He’s been keeping too much in recently and now his eyes are crying without his permission to release some of his pent up emotions. He _hates_ it, it makes him feel _pathetic_.

 

“Delic,” Izaya exhales quietly, gingerly reaching a hand out.

 

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

 

His hand drops to his lap. If the brunet doesn’t want to be physically consoled, then Izaya’s left to sit here and watch the boy break down.

 

Delic’s sniffling and quick gasping gulps of air are the only noises he can hear for a solid minute until the boy finally cracks and spills out a long keen. It pierces his eardrums like thick, barbed needles. Izaya would rather be deaf than hear Delic cry, but he can bare it. There’s absolutely no pain comparable to having to watch his baby boy _bawl_. To have to sit and watch his face go red, to see the thick rivets of tears pour down his face, and watch as his eyes are unable to purge it all in time and the snot accumulates to dribble out of his nose. Izaya’s heart is strained and his chest is hollow, his insides scooped out with the same shovel that’ll be used to dig his grave. This is _his fault_.

 

“Delic,” he whispers soothingly, “I’m sorry.”

 

Delic’s entire body _shudders_ as he tries to breathe in enough air to speak through the snot and tears. “Am I,” his voice wobbles with his lips, “Am I just an afterthought?”

 

“ _No,_ ” Izaya answers immediately, louder than before, with a hurried shake of his head. His eyes are wide with surprise. Is that truly what Delic thinks? He can’t be idle anymore, scooting closer and using the sleeves of his shirt to wipe away some of the damp streaks of tears off of Delic’s face.

 

“I think about you _all_ the time,” he honestly admits, cupping the brunet’s face again and bowing to touch their foreheads together. “I’d be around more if it was possible.”

 

Izaya releases him and leans back, giving Delic more space to breathe as he begins the process of calming down. “Would you like it if I came by for lunch every day until you’re back in school?”

 

The little brunet nods with mumbled out, “Yeah.”

 

“Do you feel better after getting some of that out, Deli-chin?”

 

He hums a soft noise of affirmation as Izaya wipes his cheeks again with his fingers.

 

The older man smooths down his hair and smiles. “Let’s eat so you can replenish your energy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of just... ends, because nothing else was due for this chapter. I really fret with Izaya's characterization in this fic, I fear making him too sappy and other OOC things. More time skips are due soon. (Also, fun fact, this and the previous chapter are both titled after lyrics from Hate to See Your Heart Break by Paramore, which is part of my writing playlist for this fic.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	14. Shizuo Heiwajima Seen With Child!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo takes Delic out and Izaya's expectations are correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note: Otome (Maiden) Road is the nickname of a street in Ikebukuro that is densely populated by anime merchandise shops aimed at women.

“I wanna go out,” Delic exclaims, stamping his foot to the floor.

 

“Are you sure--”

 

“I’m going stir crazy cooped up! I’m not a chicken, I need to spread my wings!”

 

The corner of Shizuo’s mouth twitches upwards. Delic’s energy wasn’t limited with his injured state, he still wanted to walk around his city and do things. The fact made Shizuo feel better. If his kid could keep positive and active, he wouldn’t be at risk of falling into some of the pitfalls Shizuo himself fell into.

 

“Alright, but on one condition.” The little brunet perks up with a nod. “Ya’ gotta stay close and let me hold your shirt, since we can’t hold hands.”

 

“Okay!” Delic smiles broadly and Shizuo responds in kind.

 

“Lemme look up a map for this area on my phone. I don’t really know where I’m going yet.”

 

“What parts of the city do you know?”

 

“Mostly Ikebukuro, that’s where I live and work, for the most part.”

 

“Then let’s just go there!”

 

“What? Delic, that might be a bit too dangerous right now.” People don’t recognize him here, they could walk around peacefully and window shop or whatever the fuck the kid wanted to do. Back in Ikebukuro, Shizuo will be recognized immediately and then everyone is gonna stare at the kid on his hip that’s still too injured to properly defend himself.

 

“So?” The little boy shrugs. “I eat chips upside down even though _that’s_ dangerous and Miss Mari tells me not to.”

 

“I heard that,” the young woman’s voice sing-songs from the other room, cueing Delic’s shoulders to hunch up.

 

“Maybe we should wait til after your casts are off to go to Ikebukuro.”

 

“But I’ve never been there before!”

 

“Really,” Shizuo exhales, eyes narrowing in surprise. “Is there a reason or--”

 

“Miss Mari says it’s filled with creepy old otaku and that I’d buy too much stuff if I walked around so many entertainment stores, but I won’t! I promise!” Delic leans in, widening his eyes as far as they’ll reasonably go before he looks surprised instead of pleading and softening his voice. “ _Please?_ ”

 

Shizuo should be stronger than this, technically is, but he is _weak_ to that look.

 

“Fine, but I’m serious, you can’t leave my sight and I’m holding onto your--”

 

“Great! Let’s go!”

 

The brunet’s zipped to the front door before Shizuo can blink. He runs his fingers through his hair while watching the little boy toe his feet into his sneakers. This feels like a bad idea, a _really_ bad idea, but he’s going to trust in himself that he can keep Delic safe. He can’t let his own fears get in the way of the kid’s happiness. Worst comes to worst, he carries Delic around just so he’s close enough and not at risk of being dragged away in the crowd. _Your emotions are picked up and shared with your child_ , a parenting blog had said. If Shizuo lets his worries eat at him, then Delic will get upset too. This’ll be the kid’s first time in Shizuo’s home district and he wants it to be a happy memory.

 

* * *

 

Once off of the train station, Delic shoots off like a rocket. Someone so small in comparison to Shizuo’s own long legs shouldn’t be _so fast_. He almost tears part of the brunet’s shirt trying to keep up, stumbling forward like a dog owner led by their dog on the leash.

 

Delic stops in front of a map of the district, displayed on the wall of the train station. The blond lets his actions slide this time as he watches the kid examine the map with profound interest, eyes narrowed and roaming over all of the details.

 

“So, where do you wanna go first? Do you have a place in mind?”

 

“Sunshine 60? _No, no!_ Otome Road first!”

 

“Okay, but there’s no rush. We can always come back.”

 

“I know!”

 

Shizuo eyes their route on the map before they head off. Delic keeps in step with his father as he takes shorter strides for the boy. The blond can’t help himself, his eyes drifting off of the people in front of him to his son every three steps. Delic’s eyes are naturally wide with wonder, his head turning with his gaze as he looks around at all of the shops and stores and advertisements. The kid has truly never been here before. Shizuo’s not sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he doesn’t like the thought of the kid seeing him at his worst first and possibly getting caught in some of the crossfire of his fights. On the other hand, maybe if Delic had seen what he could do and realized he wasn’t alone with this curse, then the kid would’ve approached him earlier. None of it really matters now anyway, he’s gotta stop thinking about these what-ifs of the past and live in the now.

 

“Dotachin, look! It’s Shizu-Shizu!”

 

Shizuo’s eyes narrow instinctively at the annoying nickname. He places his other hand on top of Delic’s head to let him know that they’re stopping as he turns towards the van parked along the street. Delic’s head turns under Shizuo’s light press, ruffling his hair as he looks at the four new strangers.

 

“Yo, Shizuo.” Kadota nods, leaning off of the car.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Feels like it’s been awhile, man. Did you ever-- Oh.” Delic shifts himself closer to Shizuo’s leg, inadvertently bringing attention to himself as he attempts to hide himself closer to his parent.

 

“It’s okay, Delic. This is Kyohei Kadota, my friend and the reason I found out about you. Kadota, this is my son, Delic.”

 

The trio conversing ignore Erika’s excited gasp and cry of, “Papa Shizu-Shizu!”

 

The little brunet steps out from his spot partially behind Shizuo’s leg to stand in-between the two men. “Thank you, Kadota-san.” Delic says, voice and eyes filled with gratitude.

 

Kadota flushes minutely, adjusting his beanie out of habit. “You’re welcome, nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Delic responds easily, no longer shy with the older man.

 

Erika clamors out of the car noisily, letting Walker pop his head out from her spot in the backseat. The young woman kneels next to the little boy, examining him with frenzied enthusiasm. “Oh my gosh! He looks just like you! Miniature Shizu-Shizu is so adorable!”

 

“Back-up off of my kid,” the blond seriously warns as he places protective hands on Delic’s shoulders, though his words are entirely ignored by Erika in her momentary elation.

 

“My name is Delic,” the little boy says as she leans closer. His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile stretches smugly, tipping his head up and to the side. “And of course I’m adorable.”

 

Erika goes as still as a figurine, eyes widening slowly and dramatically before she casually says, “Except your eyes, you have Iza-Iza’s eyes.” She pops up to stand, hands clasped together and shaking as if she were holding a maraca. “A love-child, I knew it! This is exactly the fluff piece my next doujin needs!”

 

“ _What?!_ ” All four men in and outside of the van say, yell, and spit simultaneously. Delic blinks, eyes narrowing with curiosity, easily recognizing who the nickname is meant for. Shizuo releases the brunet to grasp Erika’s collar and drag her forward.

 

His eyes are sharp and cold, boring into her own. “Don’t _ever_ say that _my_ son’s got _anything_ of that _bastard’_ _s_.”

 

“But, Shizu--” Walker shoots far enough out of the van window for his hooded sweatshirt to ride up, to latch his hands over Erika’s mouth in time. “Mmph!”

 

Whispering as close into Erika’s ear as he can, Walker says, “You really wanna rile Shizuo up while he’s got his kid with him?!”

 

“Hey, Shizuo, just let it go,” Kadota tries gingerly, attempting to come between the two with his arms. “It’s just Erika. Y’know how she is. Let’s not in front of the kid, yeah?” Shizuo releases his hold on her clothing with a nod at the other man. He frowns, feeling a bit embarrassed by his actions now, knowing that his kid just watched him threaten the young woman. Kadota pats his shoulder in thanks and relief.

 

However, Delic hardly cares about that, still eying Erika and the rest of the van gang oddly. “Is that Izaya guy really famous or something?” He asks suddenly, turning all of their heads towards him.

 

“Izaya Orihara’s really dangerous, kid. Don’t get involved with him and just stick with your dad.” Saburo says before anyone else, leaning out of the window on his arm.

 

“Because of Yakuza stuff, right?”

 

“His personality is far from friendly too.”

 

Delic presses his lips together as he thinks. Erika jerks inside of Walker’s hold, shaking him like the rope of a rickety bridge, her chatter muffled by his hands.

 

Shizuo’s hand gently sits back on top of Delic’s head. “Anyway, we’re going to Otome Road.”

 

“Really?” The fox faced man enthuses, as if his current position was normal. “Which anime merch are you hunting for?”

 

“Uh--”

 

“Sailor Moon! I wanna find some music stuff too, like Ruri Hijiribe’s new poster!”

 

The man with medium length hair readjusts in his seat to lean further out of the window, “You’ve got good tastes, kid.”

 

“Of course I do!”

 

“Have fun, you two,” Kadota interrupts before Yumasaki and Togusa can spiral into rambling conversations about their obsessions.

 

Delic allows himself to be steered away from the van gang by his father as he continues to think. That woman knows Izaya enough to give him a cutesy childish nickname. She called his father one too, so maybe it’s just a thing she does and not necessarily a familiarly thing. It’s not that unusual to Delic, he’s been Deli-chin to Izaya since forever. What struck him the most was that she didn’t seem adverse to talking about the older brunet, even with his father right there.

 

“Delic? Did you hear me?”

 

“I’m sorry, I was thinking.”

 

“It’s okay,” Shizuo hums, combing through the brunet’s hair as they stop at a crosswalk. “I said, if...something were to happen, Kadota’s one of the people you can trust.”

 

“He seemed normal,” Delic dismissively comments. Something is itching his back and making his stomach settle in an odd position, and this time he’s certain that his racing mind isn’t the source.

 

“Especially with those other two in tow,” Shizuo snorts.

 

“There’s others you can count on.” The blond continues as they wait for the sign to change. “Like your uncle and his fiancee. There’s Celty, Tom, and Vorona. Simon is cool too. Shinra’s a maybe.” With a second thought, Shizuo narrows his eyes. “Actually, never-mind, don’t trust Shinra. Hit the creep if he’s suspicious to you.”

 

The brunet has begun scanning the area they’ve stopped at. It’s a normal sized crowd for the time and nothing’s off about the street junction or shops around. “Are we gonna run into more people you know?”

 

“Maybe. Around this time, Tom and Vorona might be eating at Russia Sushi. Celty might be working.”

 

Delic’s gaze has stopped, fixed on a table filled with a group of girls at a cafe across the street. “Are we almost there?”

 

“Yeah, a few more blocks.”

 

* * *

 

It started with one buzz, notifying the informant that a new post had been made on the forums. Then came two in rapid succession. Now, the thing wouldn’t _cease_. Izaya had taken one glance at the new post’s headline before slamming the device down and needing to gather himself for a moment before continuing.

 

_Shizuo Heiwajima Seen With Child!_

 

“I overheard them while I was walking past! He totally said it’s his kid!” The original poster added underneath it.

 

“Pics or fake!” The first comment said.

 

“I saw them too!” The second read, along with others in varying similar sentences.

 

Then the pictures started to flood the forum thread and Izaya momentarily forgot how to breathe. Dozens of stills from various angles of the duo mundanely walking eclipsed words on the thread. They were conversing in one. In another, Shizuo’s petting Delic’s hair and smiling down at him. In each and every one Delic is still very much injured, casts and sling like white targets for others to see that the boy couldn’t put up a fight if necessary.

 

“ _Idiot,_ ” Izaya curses loudly, scrolling on his phone. Namie glances over from her desk, the displayed scowl on her boss’ face is interesting, but not quite as much as finishing her work to see Seiji sooner.

 

“I really underestimated how _stupid_ you can be, Shizu-chan.” Was that beast _trying_ to get Delic hurt?! Does he think men won’t come for the boy with guns and other weapons if their hatred for his parent runs deep enough?! With his arms indisposed, all they’d need is a bit of chloroform and for Shizuo to turn his back for just a minute.

 

Namie rolls her eyes from her seat. Of course this is about the man’s obsession again.

 

Izaya snaps one phone closed to open another, dialing a number from memory. It takes two rings for the other end to pick up.

 

“Hello Shiki-san,” he purrs smoothly despite his gut feeling crammed into his lungs. “About your previous offer regarding my situation, does that still stand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter came out alright. I've never had to write the van gang before, and, though their part here was small, I'm still a worry-wort about it. I've been feeling bummed as of late as well, I entirely blame the holiday weekend for this. Also, since Erika points some important things here, I'd like to boast a bit and mention how I've been specifically writing Izaya and Delic to share quirks and ticks, such as the lip pressing habit. These smaller details tend to be overlooked when other larger and more obvious details are in play, and, god, I just love throwing in small seemingly meaningless details. (With the opening joke of chapter twelve, no one seemed to notice or point out that Shizuo didn't deny being into men.)
> 
> I recently got a comment entirely in French on FF.Net, where I cross-post as well as on Tumblr (where you all can also send messages), saying some very sweet things and that they read this fic on AO3. My French only extends to the correct gender pronouns of words like blond/e, brunet/te, and fiance/e and le chat est noir, so I'm going to run a message through Google Translate and hope for the best.
> 
> Bonjour! D'abord, permettez-moi de vous remercier pour vos doux mots. J'espère que mon message est clair malgré le traducteur. Il est si fascinant et encourageant de savoir que quelqu'un lit mon histoire malgré la barrière de la langue. Les lecteurs comme vous me rendent très passionné et renouveleront mon amour pour mes projets. J'espère sincèrement que votre compréhension anglaise s'améliore pendant la lecture. L'anglais est un bâtard difficile d'une langue. Oui, Izaya est transgenre dans cette histoire. Quant à vos autres questions, elles sont un secret pour l'instant! Cette histoire sera très longue. J'ai beaucoup à venir! J'espère que vous continuez à lire pendant que je continue d'écrire.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! (J'apprécie vraiment tous vos commentaires!) As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	15. Growing Older But Remaining the Same Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya frets, Shizuo bowls, and Delic eats too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note: Kinrō Kansha no Hi (Labor Thanksgiving Day) is a national holiday in Japan commemorating labor and production and giving one another thanks.

[They’re still shopping on Otome Road, sir.]

 

Izaya silences his phone and snaps it shut to pick up his binoculars again. The updates are pointless with him watching them as well, but the Awakusu-kai man trailing the duo isn’t there for that. If… _When_ something goes wrong, he’ll be there for security purposes. Izaya can’t exactly swoop in and pull Delic out of the fray of a fight, a stray Yakuza with a gun will have to do.

 

The brunet zooms in for a better view, lightly clicking his tongue at Shizuo’s actions. Scanning shelves of make-up products, the man looks like he’s being quizzed on a foreign language he’s never heard of until today. “He’s not going to like that shade, Shizu-chan.” Sure enough, the child’s nose crinkles and he shakes his head with words Izaya can’t pick up. The blond says something back with a curt nod to the shelf that makes the small brunet smile and laugh and Izaya frowns.

 

He can’t do this, despite having to and wanting to. Sitting far off in the distance and just _watching_ has never hurt him before, but seeing the duo makes his stomach twist and turn, churning with a thick fluid that boils acid up the back of his throat. It can’t be Shizuo but it has to be Shizuo. Izaya’s long-since buried any and all desire to even so as much stand next to the man and looking at pictures or spying on Delic as he walks around the city alone has never felt quite like this. It hurts too, in a different prickling manner, but with the beast there and lighting up his son’s face so easily, Izaya feels _sick_. He always worked so hard to get those expressions and Shizuo just _shows up_ and normalizes those sacred small smiles of Delic’s.

 

Part of the crowd shifts and Izaya’s almost morbidly glad that the morons showed up as their post threatened. He readjusts his position to scan today’s simpleton brigade. The brunet counts three metal bats, two crowbars, and one fool that actually wasted time hammering nails into a wooden bat. He’s over-prepared for this, clearly. As long as Delic stays in cover, he won’t even be struck with a rogue flying weapon. Izaya squeezes his eyes shut with a long exhale. It’s really pointless to hope that his child won’t take after one or both of them and stick in the middle of the fight. Delic’s far from made of glass, but at least the informant and the monster could agree that they don’t want him hurt.

 

* * *

 

“Where do you wanna go next?”

 

Delic hums for a long stretch, “I want a crepe.”

 

“Should be a good cafe at the end of this block, we can--”

 

“Heiwajima!”

 

The blond turns his head slowly, a frown already showing at the unfamiliar voice. His lips curl away to display gritted teeth as his eyes scan the small gang and their pathetic choice of weapons. His hand on the brunet is instinctively pulling him behind his legs.

 

“I’m having a day out with my kid. Come back on Monday morning and I’ll kick your ass then.”

 

“Do you think we’re a joke?!” The probably-leader shouts back at Shizuo’s bland response.

 

“Yeah, but you’ll be dead if you threaten me when my son’s right here.” His head cocks ever so slightly as he rethinks his sentence. “Actually, you’ll be near-dead. I don’t want Delic seeing that shit.”

 

“I don’t mind,” the little boy says, poking his head around from behind Shizuo’s legs. The blond looks down at him oddly and Delic supplies a shrug. “I like action movies.”

 

“Movies are different, I still don’t want you to see this kind of shit in person.”

 

“You’re just gonna punch ‘em, right?”

 

“Not the point, kiddo.”

 

“You can’t just ignore us!” One of the men cracks, tightening their grip on their bat and charging forward. Shizuo’s eyes narrow, he really wants to avoid getting angry around Delic and these guys are really nothing compared to other kinds of thugs that could’ve showed up instead. They’re not worth his time or energy when the kid’s waiting and hungry. The gang member rises his bat for a downward strike as he runs closer. Shizuo catches their wrists easily, tugging the man forward with their own momentum to forcefully connect their foreheads. The thug’s out instantly and the bat nosily clatters on the pavement.

 

“Back-up some, Delic.” Shizuo says, turning the unconscious thug around to grip their jean’s hem and the back of their hooded sweatshirt. The brunet obliges quickly, the plastic bag of purchases hooked on his arm shifting with the movement. The blond rears the man in his hands back like a battering ram and throws him forward at the rest of his gang. Three of the remaining five attempt and fail to catch him, the small crowd toppling over at the impact.

 

“Strike!” Shizuo’s head turns back at Delic’s exclamation in English, nose crinkling with confusion. “Huh?”

 

“Let’s go get crepes now.”

 

“Ah, yeah. What’re you gonna get on yours?”

 

“Strawberries and whipped cream!”

 

“I figured. You sure that you don’t want me to carry that bag?”

 

“I’ve got it!”

 

* * *

 

Delic’s eyes sparkle in the lighting when the server places his order in front of him. The sliced strawberries over the two perfectly cooked and cream cheese packed crepes shimmer with a syrupy coating on top of their dollop bedding of whipped cream. The brunet disregards waiting for his father to be served his own order and swallows back the saliva pooling on his tongue to start eating. Shizuo glances at his parfait before his gaze locks onto the child eating. The food’s been here for barely a minute and his cheeks are already puffed out, sticky creams and syrups painting his lips.

 

A broad smile splits Shizuo’s face. “You’re getting more on your face than inside of it.”

 

Delic swallows what he’s chewed to run his tongue over his lips, gaining a hearty laugh out of his parent. “S’good.”

 

“It looks it. Sorry about earlier.”

 

The boy halts his next forkful in front of his mouth. “What for?”

 

“I don’t want you to be scared, but guys like that show up a lot with me.”

 

“I’m not scared,” Delic exasperates, his shoulders sagging. He’s _so tired_ of having to repeat himself.

 

“I don’t like you being around that shit, especially not in the middle of it. I don’t want you dragged into my shit.” Shizuo leans back in his chair, his eyes drifting down to stare at his hands on the table. “You said that you lost your cool on the playground. You get that from me too,” he admits shamefully. “I lose my temper all the time and sometimes I accidentally hurt those I care for… If I ever were to--”

 

“You won’t hurt me,” Delic interrupts. “I trust you.” He says confidently before stuffing his face again.

 

The blond’s eyes rise to stare at the kid offering him more faith than Shizuo offers himself. His mouth opens slightly before closing with a deep inhale. His chest feels full and warm despite the gnawing worry that he’ll disappoint his son. That’d be worse than disappointing his parents or Kasuka. Shizuo has yet to see Delic look scared, but that doesn’t mean his imagination doesn’t try to haunt his dreams with its ideas. He’s had the same nightmare five times already, one where something happens somewhere and the boy shrinks away from him with wide, scared eyes and visibly broken limbs. It wracks his brain and sits there in his thoughts, causing his fingers to fidget and shy away from even the gentlest of touches he wants to offer the boy. But, _damn_ , does he love the hugs and getting that snorted laugh out of Delic when he scrubs his hair. They’re both starved for physical affection, and Shizuo can’t deny his son anything he needs to be happy and healthy.

 

The blond finally picks up his spoon and eyes a good spot to start on his parfait. “So, where to after this?”

 

Delic hums, licking away more cream and syrup that’s stuck to his upper lip. “We didn’t get to Sunshine 60 yet, but… I think I wanna window shop more. I got Ruri’s new poster and more nail polish, so I’m good.”

 

“That’s pretty responsible of you, Delic. Ya’ sure you’re nine?” He accuses playfully with a squint.

 

“Mhmm, ten in… Three months!”

 

“ _What?!_ ” The spoon slips from his hand and clatters onto the table, his eyes widening. Some of the customers and staff look over worriedly, recognizing exactly who just yelled. Distress and renewed shame mars Shizuo’s face. “ _I never asked you for your birthday, fuck!_ ”

 

Delic blinks unconcerned, “It’s November twenty-sixth. Three days after Kinrō Kansha.”

 

“I would’ve mentioned it eventually. We always have this tiny cake for just the t-two of us at home.” Delic’s fumble goes unnoticed as he continues to reassure his father that it’s not a big deal. “Maybe we’ll go out somewhere else instead!” At least he hopes. The brunet’s grip on his fork tightens. With how Shizuo acts at just the mention of Izaya’s name, Delic wonders if it’ll even be a possibility. If they’re not confined to his apartment, would Izaya even come? It’d be his first birthday without the older man but also his first birthday with his father.

 

“I was a year off. I would’ve been nineteen,” Shizuo murmurs.

 

“Old man,” the boy teases before another forkful.

 

“Pregnancy’s like 40 weeks right? That’s--”

 

“Two-hundred and eighty days,” Delic supplies with a full cheek, calculating the math quicker. “You probably met my mom...” He trails off, eyes rolling to the ceiling as he mentally goes over the calendar. “Early February.”

 

“No, it’d have to be late January.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It makes sense that I’d go out with someone on or around my birthday.” Knowing the time frame doesn’t help him remember the names or faces of his one-night stands, but it’s fascinating to narrow these details down. He was never a bar crawler, but he’d allow some friends to drag him places. It only takes a few drinks to make his hands feel like not enough and for his worries to be bogged down enough to go off with an inviting partner. It never cured his loneliness, often leaving him feeling more alone the next morning. Sooner than most, he grew out of it and now he’s mostly relegated himself to being Tom’s walking support beam on the way back home when the two or three of them go out. Drinking with friends and coworkers is more rewarding anyway. The spoon’s not in-between his fingers when his hand flexes into a fist. Thinking back on it, he very vividly remembers a stabbing around that time. The event itself is not noteworthy, but how Izaya manages to worm his way into Shizuo’s thoughts is.

 

Delic’s quiet, fiddling with some of the leftover cream on his plate. He wants to ask if father might remember his mother again, but he feels as if he already knows the disappointing answer. One of his parents want him in their lives and that should be enough. It’s more than he had previously. What would he even do besides cry if he ever met her? Demand answers to his whys? Beg her to be a part of his life? It shouldn’t matter to him, but the tiniest part of him somewhere deep inside that he’d prefer to bury still wonders about these things. It wonders what made him so undesirable even though he understands difficult situations and the plethora of reasons why a mother might give up her child. It insidiously suggests that he’s inadequate and Delic actually believes it more often than not.

 

“ _Shit_ _,_ ” Shizuo casually swears, noticing some of the whipped cream topping of his dessert melting down the side. “Sorry, I’ll eat so we can keep going.”

 

“Your strawberry is _spilling!_ ” Delic waves his fork at the fruit in the creamy tide.

 

“You want it?”

 

“Can I?”

 

“Go for it, squirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew beforehand that this project would be semi-therapeutic for me and would require some reflecting of my own experiences. As a child of an absentee parent, a lot of Delic's writing comes straight from personal experience, feelings, and thoughts. To be honest, this chapter came out smoothly because of that.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	16. A Footnote in Someone Else’s Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic meets another familiar face or, rather, lack thereof.

Today Shizuo has learnt the day of his son’s birthday and that once Delic gets started perusing a music store or the music section of a shop, it’s better for Shizuo to find something to occupy himself with as well since they will be here for a long amount of time. Delic has to flip through every CD on every rack. Occasionally he’ll pick one up to scan the back of, only to place it back and return to the rack. Shizuo has no idea what the kid gleams from track listings and production credits, but whatever. It makes the kid happy and it’s harmless. With the kid’s attention entirely absorbed elsewhere, Shizuo doesn’t feel bad to stand next to him and flip through his phone. He’s missed a few unimportant texts and one text from his mother, asking about food allergies of all things.

 

“Hey, Delic, you allergic to anything?”

 

“Just bad taste in music,” the brunet replies as if it should be obvious and Shizuo’s lip quirks.

 

He boots up the browser on his phone, figuring that he might as well read something from one of the sites he frequents, when a whinny sounds over the soft music playing in the store. Gently musing Delic’s hair, Shizuo says, “I think I see my friend, stay right here, okay?”

 

“’Kay.”

 

The boy’s head turns as his hand leaves, watching him step outside of the store just to make sure he’s telling the truth. His father waves with a small smile and, quickly enough, a woman pulls up along the curb on a motorcycle. Delic’s head only returns to the rack once the two start talking.

 

“[It’s been too long, but I’m glad you look so happy, Shizuo.]”

 

“The kid’s been smiling all day,” the blond gestures back at the little boy, his own broad smile on full display. “I swear it’s fucking infectious.”

 

“[ :) ]” Celty retracts her phone, timidly typing out her next message. “[I’m free for a bit. Do you think it’d be okay if I introduced myself?”

 

“What? Yeah! I, uhm...” Shizuo trails off, bringing his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I was kind of wondering… If something were to happen to me, would you be there for him?” Delic would have his parents and Kasuka and Ruri, but the dullahan has always been a close friend and having another being with supernatural abilities around lessens that feeling of being a lone oddity in the world.

 

Celty’s phone slips from her grasp. She fumbles to grab it again, bouncing it between palms a few times before managing to get it. “[I’m really honored! Of course I will! But I don’t think that you need to worry about that stuff, Shizuo!]”

 

“Me neither, but I can’t stop myself. Nonstop worry seems to be a parent thing.” The blond turns to check on the boy, who has only moved a few inches to the next row of CDs on the rack. “C’mon.”

 

The woman gives a soft pat to Shooter’s seat before following Shizuo into the shop.

 

“Delic,” the brunet turns his head to the two as he’s called. “This is Celty Sturluson, she’s my friend.”

 

She squats down, presenting her phone to him. “[It’s a pleasure to meet you. How do I write out your name?]”

 

“Celty’s got…” Shizuo mulls over what to say momentarily. He can’t exactly introduce her as a dullahan in public and he’s not entirely sure how Delic will handle it. Likely as well as Shizuo himself had. “A thing that means she can’t talk, so she uses her phone.”

 

Delic looks her over. There’s nothing for him to really pick up on with her full black leather suit and a motorcycle helmet hiding her face. His father’s friends so far have been pleasant, so he’s going to try and not be suspicious. “Nice to meet you, Miss Celty. It’s just katakana, but you can write it in English too.”

 

“[Your dad talks about you a lot.]” Father and son go pink with embarrassment at the message.

 

“Really,” Delic asks, fidgeting a bit. His stomach feels warm and it’s definitely not due to his earlier treat. Such a simple sentence has made him awkward, he’s gotta change the subject. “Do you like music, Miss Celty?”

 

“[A little. I don’t really appreciate it as much as others do.]” Celty’s had her trails with headphones, it wasn’t exactly fun to find workarounds with them without a head.

 

Delic grabs a seemingly random CD case from one of the racks he’s examined thoroughly, holding it out for the woman. “You should give this one a try. It might be _the one_ ,” the words spill from his lips as stage whispers as his eyes widen.

 

Her helmet cocks after accepting the case. She doesn’t recognize the band or any of the song titles listed, but that’s not really saying much. The little boy’s dramatic delivery is enough to sell her on it.

 

“It’s nice meeting you, Miss Celty. May I go back to looking at music again?”

 

“’Course, kiddo,” Shizuo says as Celty nods and stands back up.

 

“[He’s adorable, Shizuo.]” The blond’s chest puffs up proudly, he doesn’t need an excuse to begin gushing about his son again.

 

* * *

 

Izaya spins in his chair idly, his back pressed against the leather of it. With no one around, he’s entirely absorbed in his own head.

 

The paperwork will be finalized soon and then Delic will officially and legally be seen as a Heiwajima. With no one stepping in the way to make the changes an arduous task and with every party agreeing with each other, it’ll only require a couple signatures and some paper to be printed out. It’d be _so easy_ to stop, but Izaya’s hands are tied.

 

Every single thing he can think of to do is immediately snuffed out by the following thought of _Delic will be unhappy_. Or worse, _Delic will hate me_. He can’t risk either, the very thought of the latter makes him physically ill. His lungs shrivel up like decaying flowers and the pain that shreds through his heart like a jagged saw-blade is unbearable.

 

Izaya had so hoped that the bubbled life he had encased the boy in wouldn’t be burst at least until his teens. It kept Delic as safe as possible and out of the public eye as much as possible, but… The informant saw the reflection of his own childhood, filled with solitude and loneliness. Sad, empty eyes and faux smiles. His brain itched with fears over how his son would emotionally develop. He’s only ever wanted better for his boy. He’s even broken the cycle set by his parents; Izaya can’t be a neglectful parent if he’s not a parent at all, but it didn’t do anything for his son. He gave the boy a more than fitting substitute for his failure and absolutely every _thing_ he could ever want for, but none of any of it was ever enough.

 

Then Shizuo just shows up out of the blue and _he is_.

 

The amount of time that Izaya was there in Delic’s life meant practically nothing in comparison.

 

While pregnant, Izaya had the stupidest idea of just leaving the baby on Shizuo’s doorstep. How would he have known that that might’ve actually been a better solution to his problem than the one he went with? His selfish refusal to part caused them all these heartaches. Delic has always deserved so much better than Izaya.

 

Bowing forward into a curl, Izaya’s head sinks into his hands.

 

Despite everything rooting back to him as the cause of a problem, he still desperately doesn’t want to part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry if any of you would even believe me. Anywho, quickie-type chapter before a time skip for the next!
> 
> Also, godparents are a religion thing, so it'd be super out of place here, but I tried to improvise around this because I want Aunt Celty to be a thing. Hopefully you all can forgive me because... Aunt Celty, y'all.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	17. Nobody Wants to Hear You Sing About Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Delic make their way to a karaoke parlor.

“Well, Heiwajima-kun. Everything’s looking great. I think it’s time to remove your casts.”

 

Pumping his fists into the air is currently impossible, but that does not mean that Delic doesn’t try regardless. From his chair by the examination table, Shizuo smiles.

 

“Now, that does not mean that you shouldn’t be taking things easy.”

 

“I know, Sensei.”

 

The doctor nods with a soft chuckle. “You’re familiar with the removal process and the saw, do you have any questions?”

 

The blond opens his mouth but Delic cuts him off in his excitement, jerking his limbs forward at the doctor. “Free me!”

 

* * *

 

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon!_ ” Delic tugs Shizuo forward with both of his hands on one of the older man’s. He’s happily letting the kid lead him down the street despite the on-lookers. Delic’s overflowing with energy and excitement and he hasn’t stopped smiling since leaving the hospital, and that’s more than enough to infect Shizuo.

 

“I rented a room for over an hour, we don’t have to rush.”

 

“But I haven’t been to karaoke in _forever!_ ” The brunet exclaims, his eyes going wide and his eyebrows shooting up.

 

Shizuo laughs, almost stumbling when Delic renews his tugs. “What’re you gonna sing first?”

 

The little boy suddenly screams, attracting more attention from the crowd around them, and turns back on his father with anguished eyes. “ _Don’t ask me that!_ ”

 

Shizuo can’t stop himself and laughs again. He’s grown more accustomed to Delic’s dramatic antics, learning where in Delic’s expressions to examine for seriousness or humor. His son’s a got a penchant for acting. Shizuo’s not sure where he gets that, unless his own mother or father passed down something that Kasuka picked up on and Shizuo himself just didn’t.

 

They pass another block when an arcade comes into sight, the photo booths littering one wall inside instantly grabbing the blond’s attention.

 

“Hey, Delic.” The brunet’s head rolls back to look at his father, following where he’s pointing to. “Let’s take some pictures.”

 

“Okay!” He chirps, releasing Shizuo’s hand and running off to the pinkest booth among the lot.

 

Panic rushes through the blond’s mind, even though Delic’s still in full view. “O-Oi! Don’t run off!”

 

“This one has a list of different sparkle effects,” Delic says, pressing buttons on the preview screen as Shizuo joins his side.

 

“I’m _serious_ , don’t run off again.”

 

“I’m fine,” the little boy dismisses. It’s besides the point and Shizuo’ll have to make sure he’s being clear later, but, for now, he wants to take pictures of the two of them together. He could use his phone, but the booth will print out the images for him so he can display them in his wallet immediately.

 

Shizuo places a hand against Delic’s back, urging him inside the booth. The inside’s a fainter pink than the outside and the screen inside runs an ad boasting about princesses and some other nonsensical stickers he can use to paint all over his photos. Who the hell wants a horse in the background of their photograph anyway?

 

Delic turns around in the booth to look at Shizuo with a serious expression. His fingers have danced across the panel to bring forward the list of different hair accessories. “Can I give you a tiara?”

 

Shizuo’s lip twitches. “You can mess around with one photo.”

 

“Two photos,” the brunt bargains, raising two fingers. One payment is four photographs, but it isn’t as if they can never come back or use a different machine for more photos later. Shizuo’s not about to deny Delic his small pleasures.

 

“Fine. C’mere.”

 

The blond pays the machine and sets it up. It takes a bit of maneuvering to minimize their height difference on the seat, with pressing together solving most of the issue. The first flash goes off, Shizuo’s smile is of the soft and serene variety and Delic’s smile is of his trademark blindingly bright brand. The screen counts down ten seconds before the next, giving the brunet ample time to move his hands into place. A peace sign is held up in the corner of the next, his other hand forming the sign behind Shizuo’s head.

 

“What did you just give me?”

 

“Nothing! Quick, make a goofy face!”

 

“Like what?”

 

Delic crosses his eyes and fully unravels his tongue over his bottom lip. Shizuo’s shoulders tremble with a laugh and then the third flash goes off.

 

“Shit.”

 

“That’s gonna be great!”

 

“Yeah. You’re right.” Gently pulling the brunet closer, Shizuo presses a kiss into his hair. Delic flushes immediately, the next and final flash fully catching his pink cheeks.

 

The screen blinks that it’s finished and that they can customize their photographs now. Delic worms himself free of Shizuo’s arms to poke around at his options on the touchscreen. Skipping the first, he starts dragging bundles of glitter all over the empty space of the second photo.

 

“ _Hey_ ,” the blond jokingly complains at the finger bunny ears, scrubbing a hand through Delic’s hair. The little boy smiles back innocently, fluttering his eyelashes for show.

 

“I’m gonna go take a quick smoke outside,” he nods towards the exit. “Take your time, okay?”

 

“’Kay.” Delic pokes his head out of the booth to watch Shizuo go before sliding two tiaras on place on screen.

 

Pulling out a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, Shizuo lights up. He should probably start looking into methods for quitting, but that might be a struggle all on its own. His apartment’s not even remotely aired out yet and he’s kept the windows cracked open for a week. Smoke coats more things at his place than he realized, tinting some things with its color and the scent lingering on a lot of his furniture. Delic’s commented on his smell once, but it wasn’t an outright complaint. He’s never worried about it before, but living to be old enough to see grandchildren is now a thing he thinks about. Hell, he’ll settle for just seeing his son grow into an adult, but if he can push it, he will. What truly worries Shizuo is how he’ll act under withdrawal. Everyone talks about heightened irritability and the blond’s petrified to see the aftermath of that.

 

“Shizu-chan’s not concerned with his son’s health, I see.” A voice slices into his thoughts from alongside the wall he’s leaned against.

 

Shizuo inhales slowly, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the brunet with an open glare. “You’ve got thirty seconds to fuck off before I make you disappear.”

 

Izaya waves a hand in front of himself to disperse the smoke, his brows ticking down. “If Shizu-chan will hear me out first, then I’ll oblige.” He can’t risk Delic seeing him out and about, no matter how important his message is. It’d crush his son to pieces, to see Izaya casually talking to his other father when he denied being able to go out with him.

 

“The hell I have to. You’ve got twenty-six seconds now.”

 

Izaya’s eyes narrow. In favor of getting to his point, he ignores Shizuo’s usual aggression. Pulling out one of his disposable phones, he clicks through its folders to bring up a photograph to present to the blond. “Listen up, protozoan. This is Susumu Kuroba, his declared hatred of you is advertised so intensely online that the blind can see it.”

 

Shizuo opens his mouth to tell the informant off – How fucking dare Izaya come ruin his day out with his kid?! - when the brunet interjects over the blond’s revving growl. “He’s been posting about your recent developments like an opportunity.” Izaya clicks to the next image, a screenshot of one of the man’s postings he had saved. He’s read the text numerous times, the words never failing to make him ill. It’s the kick Izaya knows Shizuo needs to take him seriously. The blond rips the phone out of his hand to read it better, teeth already grit and beginning to grind against one another. Izaya feels his heart pump faster as he stands close enough to the Monster of Ikebukuro to feel the wave of anger drifting off of him and see his nostrils flare.

 

“ _I’ll kill him,_ ” Shizuo growls out.

 

 _Ah, one can only hope,_ Izaya thinks.

 

Izaya stays silent and, after a beat, Shizuo asks quietly, “Why’re you helping me?”

 

The brunet laughs him off. “You mean besides wanting to prevent you from rampaging around all of Tokyo, tearing it apart like Godzilla, looking for your cub when he’s kidnapped?” Izaya casually says, as if he wouldn’t be in the same position.

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo retorts, “It doesn’t make sense, isn’t that what you want?” His eyes finally drift off of the image on the phone to look at the brunet, only to find him gone.

 

“What who wants?” Shizuo’s head whirls to the small brunet rearing the corner. His gut seizes momentarily, he can’t let his disgust and anger over the text image bleed over and ruin Delic’s mood as well.

 

“Ah… Nothing.” He doesn’t like lying to Delic, but it’s better if he does right now. Snapping the phone closed and stuffing it into his pocket, he crouches down. “Lemme see the pictures, did they print out well?”

 

“Yeah!” Delic hands over the strip of photographs. His favorite is probably the third despite the first, if only because he likes the way his father’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “I look great, as I always do!”

 

Shizuo chuckles, combing his fingers through Delic’s hair as he stands back up to look at the photos. Looking over the first photo of the batch, their resemblance finally hits him. Delic’s plumper in places where age has sharpened and defined Shizuo, but, _shit_ , that _is_ his face shape, and cheekbones, and nose, and-- _everything!_ His son really is his spitting image. Well, except for the eyes. That odd girl that hangs around Kadota was actually right about that. The color’s off, but it’s slight enough that only those looking for it will find it.

 

Something warm is settling in Shizuo’s stomach, generating more and more heat as he looks at the pictures. He’s struggling to pinpoint what he’s feeling. Pride, assuredly. It’s almost insidiously selfish, Shizuo’s never cared for or about his looks before seeing that he’s passed them on. Delic looks like _him, his father_ , and that sets the heavy things in stomach flipping over in reverie. Shizuo’s nothing special to look like, if anything he should see it as part of his curse. Delic will never get a life that _he_ wants if he walks around in Shizuo’s shadow. His son deserves so much better than that, so much more. It’s the same fear that lingered in his mind when giving Delic his surname. Then there’s that softly morbid feeling of happiness that some part of him will be going on when he no longer can.

 

“Are you ready to head to karaoke?”

 

“Duh! _C’mon!_ ” Delic’s hands are back on one of Shizuo’s to continue leading him. The older man laughs, barely able to pocket the photographs in time before he’s tugged along.

 

* * *

 

Delic runs straight to the machine in their booth before Shizuo’s fully checked them in. The blond smiles, he can’t berate the boy for his enthusiasm and excitement. This is what he loves to do, after-all. The brunet is still scrolling through the list of available songs when his father comes in.

 

“What do you like to sing?” Delic asks, his eyes not tearing away from the screen.

 

“Well, I-I don’t really sing.”

 

“C’mon, it’s fun!”

 

“I, uh. I don’t know?” Shizuo fidgets, a hand coming to rub the back of his neck. He knew he’d be expected to sing, but he honestly doesn’t know much music by heart. “We’ve watched enough Sailor Moon to where I could probably do that theme song. Uhm, there’s that anime with the muscular men and ghosts or something too.”

 

“They have most of Ruri’s catalog!” Delic suddenly exclaims, clicking into more albums on screen. “I’m gonna do this one!”

 

“Alright,” the blond nods and takes a seat in the booth lining the wall.

 

Delic bounces on his heels while the song loads in. It’s been far too long since he’s been to a karaoke place. Before his injuries, he used to sneak in sessions twice or thrice a week. Miss Mari had been the opposite of concerned when she found out how much time and money he spent in the parlors, encouraging his excursions. The screen rolls into the music video of the song he’s chosen, the instrumentals starting up quietly. He won’t need the on-screen lyrics or the visual reference for the dance, it’s a slightly older song he knows by heart. His feet step into proper position and he inhales deeply.

 

The lyrics scroll in and Delic begins to sing, and then Shizuo mouth gapes. Puberty has yet to hit his voice and affect how he hits the higher notes in the song and the generally higher pitch set by the female singer. The result is a pure fluidity Shizuo didn’t anticipate but really should have with how much his son professes his love of music. His kid can sing. His kid can _really_ sing. Even with his shorter limbs, the brunet matches the moves Ruri makes on screen behind him in perfect synchronicity.

 

Shizuo’s earlier assessment was entirely right; this kid belongs on a stage. Even under the single spotlight of the small karaoke room, Delic’s broad smile hasn’t vanished under the weight of his singing. There’s nowhere else that the brunet looks like he wants to be more. Maybe Shizuo should set up a meeting between Delic and Kasuka and Ruri sooner. School needs to come first, but they could offer the boy more opportunities than Shizuo ever could and certainly get his name around quicker than starting on nothing would. He’s got the talent and perseverance for what he loves. _Shit,_ does he _ever._

 

The song ends and Delic’s posture breaks, his chest heaving slightly. He doesn’t expect Shizuo to start clapping but _he does_ and Delic flushes. He’s more than used to larger audiences cheering, but it’s _father_ this time. Delic’s heart stutters and he blames feeling too hot so suddenly on the exercise.

 

“That was amazing, Delic.”

 

“Thanks,” the boy fidgets, staring down at his feet bashfully.

 

“Why aren’t you in chorus at school?”

 

“Oh, I help Nishio-senpai as piano accompaniment enough that I’m practically in it anyway. She always tries to recruit me, but I already have math club and band club.” Shizuo nods, picking up on what the boy is implying with his tone. _I like time to myself, too._

 

“Your turn.”

 

“There’s no way that I can hit that bar you set up,” Shizuo jokes lightly as he stands up.

 

Delic snorts out a laugh as he passes the microphone over. “Then don’t. Karaoke is about having fun! Not being good.”

 

Shizuo’s probably going to make a fool of himself in the private room, but he doesn’t care and Delic won’t either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Let the voice of love take you higher.) I do believe that my funk is starting to end and I can write reasonably well again! As I've likely said before, I hope no drop in quality is noticeable.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	18. Behind My Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic disappears after school.

“Did you hear? Harusawa’s now a _Heiwajima_.”

 

“My dad mentions that guy sometimes, says he’s a freak of nature!”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Apparently he can pick up entire cars and throw them like nothing! He’s always ruining some of the places my dad has to visit for work!”

 

“That’s so weird!”

 

“Totally!”

 

“It sounds like Harusawa though, he’s a freak like that too! Don’t you remember what he did to the music room wall two years ago?”

 

“The music room wall?! What about what he did to Wakayoshi?!”

 

“That wasn’t a rumor?!”

 

“No!”

 

“Wakayoshi still panics when they pass in the hallways!”

 

“Oh my god, what a freak!”

 

Delic closes his locker with a metallic _click_. He tries not to hear the gaggle of his classmates just a ways down the hall, but he simply can’t help how good his hearing his and how loud they’re being. He’s heard varying amounts of gossip featuring himself all day every day since he returned to school. He had to reintroduce himself to his class on the day the papers were finalized and that had been all the other kids needed to ignite a rumor mill. In attempt to calm down, the brunet curls his fingers into tight fists before releasing them and flexing each finger slowly. School’s over, he can make it home without an incident. He just has to ignore everyone around him as he walks to the exit.

 

“Hey, Haru-- _Heiwajima!_ ”

 

Delic’s head turns to a different group of students. He counts three of them, with a mousey fourth poorly hiding behind the trio.

 

“What?” He ask calmly, shifting his schoolbag slightly.

 

“Is it true?” The second of the flock pokes their head forward. “That your dad, like, picks up vending machines and trashcans and hurls them at people?”

 

“I don’t know,” the brunet offers a shrug for emphasis. “I’ve never seen him do that. Maybe?”

 

The group curls into themselves to whisper and quietly chat amongst themselves. Delic turns around, about to continue walking when the third calls back to him. “Now that you’ve finally got a dad, you and that other monster should go live in the mountains or somewhere away from us people!”

 

The brunet stills as the group of boys begin to laugh. His fingers twitch against the strap of his schoolbag, his legs suddenly like lead. Delic’s heart beats heavily, his outer exterior neutral by all other regards. He absolutely refuses to give the other kids the reactions they want out of him and forces his feet forward.

 

* * *

 

Shizuo checks his phone for the fifth time when another duo of students walk out of the school gate. He’s positive that Delic doesn’t have any clubs today. Unless he’s gotten hung up with a teacher or student, he should’ve seen the kid leave by now. He’s almost been here for half an hour and he’s seriously starting to worry about where his son is. Maybe Delic left in a different way that Shizuo doesn’t know about, he had wanted to surprise the boy by showing up. If he never told Delic to expect him, he might’ve gone elsewhere or agreed to stay back to help someone else.

 

The blond rings the boy’s number, waiting through all the rings until it hits voice-mail and Delic’s melodic voice is coming through to tell him to leave a message. Shizuo grunts after canceling the call. He’ll try just texting to ask where he’s at, maybe he just can’t answer the phone right now.

 

Shizuo waits another fifteen minutes before snapping his phone open again. He’s begun pacing on the sidewalk, some of the late leavers looking at him oddly as they pass by. There’s still no response and now his worries have enough to clutch onto to stroke his panic up and to attention. Shizuo’s last hope is Delic’s adoptive mother, so he scrolls to her number in his contacts. It rings twice before her voice comes through with a pleasant greeting.

 

“Is Delic there with you?”

 

“No, I’m afraid not. Is something the matter?”

 

The blond rakes a hand through his hair, gripping some of the strands. “I got off early and I thought I’d pick him up to surprise him, but he hasn’t come out yet and he won’t answer his phone--” Even in splints, Delic answered his texts. Shizuo mostly got emojis then, but the boy set up that he was decently prompt with responding to them.

 

“I’ll look into it,” Mari coolly cuts in over the rising panic in Shizuo’s voice.

 

“ _Look into it?_ ”

 

“Yes. I’ll call you back once I’ve checked the GPS on his phone. Try to relax, Shizuo-kun. He might have just wandered off to the nearby music store he frequents.”

 

Right, the kid’s probably absorbed in his favorite hobby. Shizuo won’t and can’t relax when he’s got a place he can check. He still doesn’t know the area too well, but he knows the direction he should be running in and that’s enough for him to shoot off like a rocket.

 

* * *

 

Izaya scowls at the number on his phone before picking it up and spinning his chair around to face the windows of his apartment. “Yes?”

 

“We can’t find Delic and he’s not answering his phone.” Mari cuts straight to the point, the urgency of the situation more important than pleasantries.

 

The informant jerks up from his seat, the back of his legs bumping into the chair and sending it backwards to bump into his desk. He snaps the disposable phone shut and roughly thrusts it back into his pocket. Shoving the chair out his way of the keyboard, Izaya doesn’t bother sitting back down to open up his GPS tracking program and typing in the required passwords.

 

The program blinks that it’s searching, Izaya’s entire body feeling as though it’s vibrating in place while he’s forced to wait. The absolute worst case scenario for him to face is Delic’s phone being disposed of or dropped in a struggle elsewhere of his actual location, Izaya won’t be able to find him then. Without a place, he can’t send in the cavalry to rescue the boy. He can’t even go there in person to spy and make sure Delic’s okay.

 

The program blinks again, this time with a soft chime to announce its completion. Izaya doesn’t recognize the place the dot’s located at, somewhere amidst a shopping block. It’s not any gang or yakuza territory that he knows of and that in and of itself is a huge relief. Izaya doesn’t spare Namie a glance nor a goodbye as he grabs his coat on his way out the door.

 

* * *

 

The location in question turns out to be a hair salon. The harsh scent of dyeing chemicals and the mixed scents of differing shampoos and conditioners hit Izaya as he opens the door. He steps inside briskly, scanning around the chairs immediately. The lady at the front gives him a standard greeting, quickly presuming he’s here to meet someone and going back to her magazine behind the counter as Izaya passes her by.

 

Izaya passes a couple of women chatting with their stylists before the noise coming from the back gets his full attention. The voice he’s been stressed to oblivion to hear is faint with casual conversation. Rearing the corner, the informant finds the cove of hairdryers and Delic with a stylist cooing over him with a handheld mirror. Izaya’s ready to exhale with relief when he actually _looks_ at Delic.

 

“ _What did you do to your hair?_ ”

 

“Izaya?” The little boy whirls around with surprise. “Why’re you here?”

 

The brunet ignores him to gather his face in his hands and get a better look at what he’s done, turning Delic’s head this way and that. That gorgeous brown hue Delic had been born with is entirely gone, bleached out of existence for a bright blond shade. Izaya’s stomach sinks, pulled into a black hole that is assuredly fully formed in his torso by now. Delic had run off to dye his hair the same color that the beast wears. He’s only going to bring more attention to himself now. Not wanting to get involved, the stylist slinks away from the two. Izaya will have to deal with the entire salon seeing them together later.

 

“You’re grounded.”

 

“ _What? Why?_ ”

 

“You ran off again, Delic. You’ve been talked to about this.”

 

“But--”

 

“No excuses.”

 

The little blond’s lips press together tightly and his hands swat away Izaya’s hands from his face. “ _You_ can’t ground me. I didn’t run away anyway, school was over! I can do whatever I want after school!”

 

“Not when you don’t answer your phone, you can’t. That’s always been the stipulation, Delic. You had us all worried about what could’ve happened to you.”

 

Delic’s rising aggression simmers back down, his eyes softening on the older man. “You were worried about me?”

 

“Of course. Now, you’re going to call back Shizuo and tell him where you are so he can come get you.” The brunet gazes around the machines for the one where Delic has set his schoolbag next to, grabbing it and handing it off to the blond.

 

“You’re leaving again?”

 

“I have to.”

 

“ _Have?_ ”

 

Izaya meets Delic’s sad gaze, his shoulder slumping minutely. There’s no way he can stay if Shizuo’s going to be coming. “Mari called me in the middle of work.”

 

Delic sighs softly, “Okay.”

 

Izaya watches as the little blond walks back to the machines to take a seat and pull out his cellphone from his schoolbag. He can’t stand that dejected look that momentarily shadowed his son’s face. Izaya takes two steps towards the corner where he came from before turning around on his heels.

 

“Deli-chin,” he calls and the little boy looks up from his phone at him. “I’ll make a spot for you and we’ll do something together really soon, okay? It won’t just be like a lunch thing.”

 

One of the corners of the blond’s mouth quirks slightly. His eyes slide elsewhere for a second before back at Izaya for a nod. “’Kay.”

 

Delic looks like he doesn’t entirely believe Izaya and it’s enough for the brunet to feel hollow again. The blond’s phone chimes with a flurry of texts and he knows that he has to escape now before Shizuo storms in. Delic’s attention is fully occupied with the frenzied texts from his other parent and doesn’t look up to watch Izaya slink out of the salon.

 

* * *

 

Shizuo mindlessly breaks the handle of the front door as he charges in. The metal crumples with the indents of fingers and some of the glass paneling cracks. The woman at the front desk panics at the sight.

 

“ _Delic!_ ”

 

“I’m fine,” he says from his seat in the waiting section.

 

Shizuo whirls around and finally realizes that that weird scent invading his nostrils is hair dye and varying shampoos. Why the hell did his kid run off to a hair salon?

 

“ _Oh my god,_ ” he breathes, instantly fixated on the mop of blond hair now atop of his son’s head. “You _dyed_ your hair?”

 

“Yup!” Delic chirps with a faint smile.

 

Shizuo drops to a squat in front of Delic, eyes still more on his hair than his face. “ _Why?_ ”

 

The younger blond fidgets his fingers, his eyes looking down at the new coat of polish he put on his nails yesterday. “You said that it makes you stand out and I… I like standing out too.” It’s an oversimplification of both sides, but he’s still partially telling Shizuo the truth.

 

“And I...” Delic tries to continue softly despite the feeling of awkwardness settling in his gut. His face has gone as pink as his nail polish and he’s keeping his eyes off of his father. “I thought matching would be nice. It makes me feel...closer...to you...” All of the insides of his chest feel warm and gooey and foreign but… _Nice_. _Really nice._ Delic has no idea what the sensation is from.

 

Delic’s too focused on his fingers and feelings to notice Shizuo leaning closer until he’s scooped up in the older blond’s arms. His head rests on the little boy’s shoulder, not minding the intense smell of freshly dyed hair he breathes in. All of the worry that had flooded and clotted Shizuo’s mind melts away like ice under a summer sun, gone for the fresh sting of something sharp piercing his chest. Delic wanted to look like him, ran off to dye his hair in a simple act to feel closer to him. Shizuo’s heart is frantically jumping and jittering as if met with a live wire. His shoulders tremble as he buries his eyes in his son’s shoulder.

 

“Are you… Crying?” Delic asks slowly.

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo croaks. “But it’s ‘cause I’m happy.”

 

The boy’s blush renews and he opts to stay quiet in response. Shizuo sniffs and inhales when he finally pulls back some, his arms staying in place and favoring the hug over allowing his hands wipe his eyes. Stiffly but sternly, he says “You’re grounded.”

 

“ _What? But I didn’t do anything wrong!_ ”

 

“You need to text me--”

 

“I _couldn’t_ when the lady was doing my hair! And it’s after school! I’m allowed to do whatever I want til six!”

 

“You need to start telling me or Mari where you’re going after school then.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because we love you and worry about you. When you didn’t answer after such a long time, I was a mess.”

 

“But, I’ve never had to before and--”

 

“ _Delic._ ” The little boy’s mouth instantly closes with the authoritative tone and Shizuo sighs. “I get it, it’s annoying and it makes me seem like a nosy pest, but… I don’t want or intend to hinder your freedom, I just want to know you’re safe.”

 

“I understand.” Delic inches back just enough to look Shizuo in the eye. “...Are you _really_ grounding me?”

 

The blond’s lip twitches. “No. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who panicked and overreacted. I got off early, so I wanted to surprise you at the gate, but you never came out, so I kind of just...”

 

Delic’s eyes widen, his fingers squirming against one another. “I’m sorry, Dad.” He apologizes softly and honestly.

 

Shizuo’s entire body jerks still, his heart jolting as if suddenly becoming personally intimate with a defibrillator and eloping with it into his throat. He heard Delic right, right?! There’s no way he couldn’t’ve! He’s not hard of hearing and the music of the salon is set so low that the women in the styling chairs are talking over it without issue. Shizuo’s face is the same strong shade of pink as Delic’s nails when he pulls his son back in to re-tighten the hug.

 

Delic returns the hug this time, winding his arms around his father and feeling a familiar tremor again. “Are you crying again?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

“’Cause nothing makes me happier than being your dad.”

 

That foreign feeling Delic can’t place is heating up and liquefying his insides again. He can’t think clearly with all the blood rushing to his face, so Delic decides the best thing to do is squish his face against Shizuo’s chest and remain quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly cannot think of anything to put here as a personal note for this chapter. Uhm, tell me about your emotional agony?
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	19. Breaking Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Delic make movie night snacks.

“Finished your homework?”

 

“Yup!”

 

“Your math worksheets?”  
  
“Yes.”

 

“The required reading for literature?”

 

Delic grunts, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Yes, _Dad._ ”

 

Shizuo stutters in place, his face instantly going pink. His head whirls down to the smaller blond and catches an eyeful of his broad grin. Delic flushes a bit himself when saying the foreign but _so right_ feeling title, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to refrain from using it, especially when it turns his father into a mess. As punishment, Shizuo runs his hand through Delic’s hair, ruffling his mop like a mass a feathers. Delic squawks with surprise, ducking away swiftly and raising his hands to fix his hair again.

 

With chores and homework out of the way, the duo can set to work on preparing snacks for their movie or anime night, whichever Delic picks out for them to watch. They’ve been taking turns with who picks snacks. Yesterday had been Shizuo’s and he had just thrown together popcorn with chocolate candies, but tonight is Delic’s turn.

 

The first thing the little boy has to do is instruct his father which cabinet their largest bowl is in. Shizuo eventually finds and pulls out the mixing bowl. It’s almost bigger than his son’s torso and he almost asks him if they’re going to bake until he rotates and sees all of the boxes of cereal Delic’s pulled from another cabinet. Shizuo knows exactly where this is going and, _shit_ , he can remember doing stuff like this with Kasuka on Saturday mornings. His chest fills with fond warmth as Delic snags the bowl from his grip and begins mixing the various cereals together.

 

“Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate!”

 

“Right, right,” Shizuo laughs, getting the bag of leftover candies from yesterday to dump into the bowl.

 

“Strawberry syrup! Whipped cream!” Delic shoos at him and Shizuo grimaces.

 

The concoction is a brightly colored sugary _mess_. It definitely doesn’t need _more sugar_. Delic’s going to have a sugar high during whatever they watch tonight and anymore will make him sick and Shizuo really doesn’t want the boy making himself sick, even if he can understand being a kid and wanting junk food and all that. Delic’s really smart and responsible for his age, but it doesn’t mean he’s not still a _child_ , and children do irresponsible and stupid things all the time. Shizuo can indulge the boy’s sweet-tooth without going overboard.

 

“No,” Shizuo says sternly. “It doesn’t need anything else, you’ll make yourself sick if you do anything else to it, Delic.”

 

“ _Please?_ ”

 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. He’s a pretty laxed parent and usually the puppy dog eyes would have him hook, line, and sinker, but he’s knows the feeling of stomach pains from sugar overdosing. Delic’s assuredly going to get a high then an eventual crash, Shizuo really doesn’t want him to throw up alongside of that.

 

Delic pouts, his bottom lip jutting out, and hugs the bowl larger than himself defensively. Shizuo follows him out of the kitchen to the living room couch, the boy plopping down and starting on the mixture immediately.

 

“Let’s watch more Sailor Moon,” he says between noisy crunches.

 

Shizuo hums agreement as he sinks into the couch next to the smaller blond. “I’ve got something we need to talk about first.” Delic’s hand pauses and his lips are already pressing before Shizuo can even say what they need to converse about. “It’s nothing bad, it just involves you too, so we have to talk about it together.”

 

Tentatively, the little boy replies. “Okay.”

 

“So, my friend Tom found a new place for me.”

 

“Oh,” Delic blinks, relief relaxing his body again.

 

“It’s not as big as here, but it’s bigger than my current apartment and its got the two bedrooms I’ve been looking for. It’s still in Ikebukuro but it’s closer to the train station.” It doesn’t reek of cigarettes and lacks the shameful holes Shizuo’s accidentally peppered all over the walls over time. The neighborhood still isn’t great, but it’s only slightly more hectic of an area in terms of coming-and-go-ers. “You don’t have to move in-- I mean, you’re going to be further away from your school and that’s important, but I want you to have your own space there. Maybe,” Shizuo inhales briefly to calm himself down, “stay over on the weekends?”

 

By the time Shizuo’s finished saying what he has to a faint pink blush has bloomed across Delic’s face. His fingers fidget with the cereal and candy in the bowl in his lap, picking through for the pieces shaped like musical notes and flowers. “I’d like that,” he admits after a beat of silence.

 

“Great, I’ll have your own key made, I want you to be able to come over whenever you want. Do you wanna go out and pick out furniture and paint for the walls? I asked, they’ll let us make your room as pink as you want.”

 

“Do I have to help put the furniture together?”

 

Shizuo laughs softly. “No.”

 

“Then sure.”

 

The blond smiles broadly and Delic joins him with a more petite smile. His fingers are still fidgeting in the bowl, no longer flustered but instead mindless with thought. He’s still got about three years to go til he has to change schools for junior high. Delic cares for Miss Mari, he really does, but the prospect of moving in with his father is so inviting. His living situation will suffer a major downgrade, but he can’t bother to care about that. His dad offers to tuck him in every night he stays over even though Delic’s grown out of it and told him so, he even wakes up on some colder mornings to the sheets tucked in around him anyway. Miss Mari’s a fantastic cook, but he still prefers his father’s quiet curses when he breaks their eggs too hard for breakfast and has to pick out the pieces of shells. Delic’s begun thinking that home isn’t really a place but a person. He doesn’t care if his commute to school is longer if he can feel this warm fuzzy feeling in his chest all the time.

 

“Do you remember how to start the DVD player?” Delic asks before shoving a handful of the cereal mixture into his mouth.

 

Shizuo blinks down at the remote and its hundreds of buttons and glares ever so slightly. The little boy alongside of him snorts with a laugh, covering his mouth in time with a hand.

 

* * *

 

Monday rolls around quicker than the duo like, and the day itself goes by horribly uneventful with the exception of his newly blond hair almost getting Delic in serious trouble with his school’s strict dress code. Some of the kids jeer at his hair and call him lame names they’ve picked up from their parents and television but don’t fully comprehend. Delic’s gotten what he wanted though, he stands out like a sore thumb and he _loves_ it. Some of the adults on his walk home tsk and tut to themselves, murmuring about awful and shameful parenting. He almost tells the first old lady off before shrugging it off of his shoulders and continuing on. Delic’s skin gets thicker the same way his bones get stronger, but he’s not about to let someone call his dad a bad parent, especially not over something Delic did all by himself.

 

The young boy peruses the shop windowsills on his walk home. Most things don’t really catch his eye until he steps onto the block where the shops are primarily marketed to women. A furred coat on the mannequin in one sill lures him inside the shop. The scent of perfume is a bit obnoxious and under it he can faintly make out the stale smell of foundation from the make-up counters past the doors, but he really loves these stores despite their more annoying attributes. The dresses on all of the racks are lacy and riddled with bows. They look almost impossible to wash but so gratifying to wear.

 

Delic ignores most of the allure to browse for the rack of coats the mannequin advertised. The young woman behind the register coos with recognition at him and offers a little wave, piquing the interest of their current customer at the counter. The other woman gasps sharply, the dress in her hands bunching up against her chest with excitement.

 

“Mini Shizu-Shizu! _Oh my god,_ are you into cosplay?!”

 

The little blond wrinkles his nose as she runs up to him, forgetting her purchase in favor of the boy. “My name is _Delic_ Heiwajima, Miss Van Lady, and I dunno. I’ve never tried dressing up aside from on Halloween.”

 

“It’s Erika! Erika Karisawa.” She fidgets, hopping a bit from foot to foot as she transfers her weight. “Are you interested, because I am just _dying_ to make you a Shizu-Shizu costume! It’d be so adorable, I bet Shizu-Shizu would die from the cuteness overload! Oh, I totally wanna give you an Iza-Iza costume too!”

 

Delic’s mentally commending Erika’s lung capacity when the name amidst her babbling clicks his brain to full attention. Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you Izaya’s friend?”

 

“No, but I know him well enough.”

 

“You’re the first person I’ve heard mention him with any hint of friendliness.” Erika opens her mouth to respond to that, but Delic beats her to it. “Is it true that he and my dad hate each other?”

 

“They say they hate each other all the time,” the little boy’s face falls instantly with her words, his lips pressing together, “but their love is so obvious!” Delic’s lips twitch, he’s reconsidering trusting her words now. He’s seen his father’s face at the mention of Izaya’s name, she’s delusional to think that Shizuo loves Izaya. Delic’s only experience with romance is from movies and television, but even he knows that you’re not supposed to look at the person you’re in love with like they’re dog shit under your shoe. Izaya’s an entirely different case, apathetic and neutral when he was forced to talk about the other man, avoiding saying anything outright or concrete about how he feels. It’s still a mute subject between them, but Delic gets the feeling that Izaya’s trying to spare him from saying something hurtful with his bizarre behavior. It’s the right thing to do, he knows, it is his father he’d be talking down about.

 

Delic doesn’t know what to do. He has no idea what’s transpired between them, so he can’t think of a better way to approach either of them. If he trusts his father’s words, and he _does_ , then Izaya’s a really dangerous manipulative liar, but he doesn’t feel manipulated by anything Izaya’s ever said to him. If anything, Delic feels lied to by omission. He doesn’t really care about whatever scary jobs the brunet does when he has memories upon memories of the man at his birthday parties and Christmases and fretting over his grades and the recordings of his competitions. He’s avid to remain in the boy’s life despite whatever _work_ really means. Delic doesn’t really desire to push Izaya out of his life, he feels oddly connected to the man for reasons he can only explain with time spent together.

 

Determination fills his eyes and he gives the rack of white coats with pink fur that originally lured him in another glance before he turns to Erika. “I have to go now. See you some other time, Miss Van Lady.”

 

Delic’s out of the door before she can call back, “Let me get your measurements sometime!”

 

The blond begins running home, sending out texts when he has to stop at the red crosswalks.

 

“[You’re spending the night, right? We’re out of those chocolate candies!]” Shizuo gets while Izaya gets, “[My dad’s staying home because he’s working late tonight and early tomorrow. Do you want to come over after dinner for movies or TV?]”

 

Both of them answer him almost immediately and Delic didn’t really expect any less. A smirk spreads across his face as he pockets his phone and continues his run home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Stop asking about meet-ups and reveals in the comments now, please.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	20. When They Made Me, They Broke The Mold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic forces a confrontation between Shizuo and Izaya.

Izaya’s the first to arrive that night. Delic hadn’t _entirely_ lied, Shizuo was working late that night and did have to skip out on dinner together. The small blond couldn’t be upset over it when his plan was starting off so smoothly though.

 

The informant lets himself in, singsonging his nickname for the little boy to announce his arrival. Poppy music drifts out of the cracked open door and, after a minute, Delic slips out of his bedroom.

 

“Izaya!” He exclaims, bouncing off of the railing overlooking the living room and hopping down the stairs.

 

“Hello, Deli-chin.” The brunet rolls his eyes over the blond, picking up on all of the little cues displaying genuine elation. “You look excited tonight.”

 

“It’s been awhile since you came over for a sleepover. We should go play games in my room!” Before the informant has time to answer, Delic leaps off of the final step and grabs his hand to tug him up the stairs to his bedroom. Izaya’s lips quirk into a smile, allowing himself to be pulled in whichever direction his son wants him to go in.

 

“You still like Rhythmania, right?”

 

“We should play something that Deli-chin doesn’t have an advantage in.”

 

“I don’t have an advantage! Your legs are longer than mine!”

 

“Eh? Are you denying knowing all of the songs by heart?”

 

Delic falters with that, his eyes drifting up and off to the right. “Um...”

 

“How about Mario Kart?”

 

“Okay, but only if I can be Princess Peach!”

 

Izaya laughs softly and the tugs on his arm are renewed with more excitement. Once pulled inside of the child’s bedroom, the door shuts behind the duo with a _click_.

 

* * *

 

“Good evening,” Shizuo exchanges with Mari as he lets himself inside. The young woman looks him over curiously, not having expected him to show up at all once she had become aware of Izaya’s presence. Her eyes drift to the bedroom door and her lungs cage in a sigh. Mari feels uneasy with herself, she (and Izaya for that matter) should’ve expected something like this from Delic. The older the boy gets, the more he resembles his father in her saddening eyes.

 

The young woman nods in greeting at Shizuo then cocks her head to the stairs. “He’s been playing video games in his room.”

 

Shizuo smiles gently, minor worries about Delic being upset over him missing dinner evaporating. “Did he finish his homework?”

 

“I wonder,” she hums. “He’s been very preoccupied since coming home, but he didn’t seem upset so I didn’t intrude upon his space.”

 

“I’ll make sure,” he replies while scaling the stairs. If Delic wasn’t noticeably upset then he probably just got hooked up with a new game or something, but it is still a weekday, so schoolwork has to come first. Reaching the door, Shizuo raps his knuckles on the door, waiting for the call of “Come in!” before turning the handle and opening the door.

 

The blond swings the door open and takes a step in, all of the air inside of his lungs suddenly expelling from his chest and his unresponsive legs turn into cement with shock. From his spot on the floor, Izaya’s head turns to the door. The glint of amusement fades from his eyes immediately, the quirks in his lips smoothing out flat. Both men feel their hearts clench and restrict as silence stretches between them. Izaya feels the stones being tied to his feet as his heart sinks ahead of the rest of him. Shizuo’s mind suddenly floods with thoughts and fears. If he can’t keep himself restrained, his worst nightmares are close enough to becoming a reality, but _what the hell is that bastard doing so close to his kid?!_ _How did he get in Delic’s bedroom, why isn’t Delic trying to get him out, why did they look happy_ _before he came in_ _?_ Somehow the doorknob still in Shizuo’s fingers remains intact.

 

“You’re here!” Delic exclaims, popping up from his seat on the floor. The two adults are like statues, frozen in place with their eyes locked on to one another. Delic’s body is suddenly jittery and shaking all over, he’s not sure if it’s from excitement or fear but he’ll roll with it until he can calm himself down better. With a deep breath, he steps between the two men and starts.

 

“Izaya, you know my dad. Dad, you know Izaya. He’s my friend.” Shizuo’s eyes narrow in that instance, his lips moving to form the word _friend_ with a profuse frown. Still on the floor, Izaya sits straighter, harsh chills piercing down his spine like falling icicles. “I know you guys don’t like each other, and I don’t know why but… You both mean a lot to me and I’d like it if we could all get along because choosing between you would suck. It’s not fair to me!”

 

Neither of their eyes have left one another to look at the little boy in between them during his plea. Without Delic speaking there’s only silence and, to him, it seems violent. His trembling intensifies as he grows more certain that his shaking was due to fear. He doesn’t understand why they’re not moving, talking, or doing _something_. He’s chosen the role of mediator for himself, but he doesn’t truly understand what it means to be one with two men that have violently hated one another for over a decade.

 

“Delic, go downstairs.” Shizuo suddenly says steadily, his tone neutral and void of any reflection.

 

The smaller blond jerks from the sudden noise, his head whirling to the older man. “But--”

 

“Listen to your father,” Izaya says, his voice none the different from the bodyguard.

 

Delic’s eyes narrow as his gaze bounces between them. He bites his lip to relieve the pressure building in his chest, but it doesn’t help and he only succeeds in breaking his skin and causing his lip to bleed. His fingers grab onto the knees of his pants legs, his grip tightening and squeezing the material. “Only if you promise not to hurt each other! You _have_ to promise!”

 

The duo finally draw their eyes from one another to give matching stricken looks to the child trying to stand up straight between them. Shizuo’s not sure that he can, even with how horribly his son is shaking and the way his eyes are glistening more and more by the second. The flea bastard has done something to get his kid strung up so badly and Shizuo absolutely cannot forgive him for hurting Delic.

 

Izaya reorients himself on the floor, sitting up on his knees and reaching out a hand to grab one of Delic’s to gently pull him closer. The doorknob finally succumbs to fate and crumbles like a wad of discarded paper in Shizuo’s fingers. Izaya brushes some blond strands out of the boy’s face before cupping and stroking his cheek with his fingers. “I promise that we’re just going to talk, so please calm down and go downstairs. Play some music until we’re finished, alright?”

 

Delic sniffles, but Izaya’s ministrations appear to work, soothing the blond some. “You just don’t want me to hear you making noise.”

 

“There might be some yelling,” the brunet’s eyes flicker back to Shizuo, “but that will be all. You don’t have to worry, Delic.”

 

The little boy nods and rubs at his eyes. He’s hesitant, but he wants to trust Izaya’s words. Whatever this tarry feeling in his stomach is, he wants to be miles away from it. Pulling away from the physical comfort, Delic walks towards Shizuo and the door. His lips press as he stalls in front of his father. Delic’s eyes linger on the floor as he works out what he has to say.

 

“I don’t know what happened, but...” His eyes finally dart up to look back at Shizuo. “Izaya’s never done any of that bad stuff to me.” The brunet’s face twists with pain, not knowing enough of what Shizuo might’ve said but with reasonable enough guesses to send his stomach lurching forward. “He’s important to me, so please try and get along.” Shizuo’s mouth opens slightly with shock from the weight of Delic’s words, no noise coming forth.

 

Delic finally leaves the two alone in his room, the door closing behind him with a finalizing _click_. Both men hold their breath, waiting til they’re both positive that the little boy is downstairs and out of earshot. After a few agonizing minutes, music bleeds through the walls from the downstairs stereo.

 

Izaya stands up from the floor as Shizuo whirls on him, teeth grit and eyes ablaze with fury. “ _You’re his ‘friend’?_ _What the fuck have you been filling my kid’s head with?_ ”

 

The brunet sighs, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. Shit, he was such a fool. He didn’t anticipate Delic doing anything like this, but he really should have. They’re both the only permanent people in his life aside from the caretaker Izaya hired, of course he’d eventually orchestrate something to push a confrontation between them, Delic’s Izaya’s kid.

 

“I haven’t deceived him, if that’s what Shizu-chan means.”

 

Lurking closer, Shizuo uses his height on Izaya. “ _Was my warning not enough for you?_ ”

 

“More like, ah, overdue?”

 

The blond’s hands shoot forward, gripping Izaya’s shirt and lifting him up. Shizuo walks with the other man in his hands like a rag-doll, roughly shoving him against a wall. The trinkets on the shelves shuffle with the forceful movement. Izaya’s teeth grit as his back connects to the hard surface, but otherwise refuses to offer any reaction. “ _How long?!_ ”

 

“If you can’t help yourself, don’t leave a mark anywhere Delic might see it.”

 

“ _Don’t you dare use my kid to get to me, you fucking coward!_ ” Shizuo roars. Izaya could suffocate with all of the anger emanating from the man, his hatred overflowing like a poorly kept dam. The brunet’s jerked forward and back, his head slamming into the wall harder than before. Pain throbs from his skull, his bones none the happier with the treatment they’re getting. Behind him, cracks form in the wall. “ _How long?!_ ”

 

“You need to calm down so we can talk, Shizuo.” Izaya keeps his face and voice neutral, hoping that his lack of response and expression will assist in calming the blond down rather than wind him up further. With the situation as it is, Shizuo probably has yet to notice that Izaya is currently wearing pajamas with pockets that would certainly be drooping if he were carrying anything to defend himself with. “I’m not fighting or running, you don’t need to be hostile. I know you’re capable of communication, so calm down so we can talk like adults.”

 

Shizuo’s vibrating, the anger moving through his body like the resounding note of a plucked guitar string. His fingers unlatch from the brunet’s clothes and gravity sends Izaya sliding down the wall until his feet meet the floor. Shizuo splays his hands against the wall on both sides of the informant, cracks forming from the poorly managed pressure, and leans forward to loom over the smaller man. “ _How long?_ ” He demands again, voice hissing like a furious kettle.

 

Izaya considers the numerous lies he could spill, but none of them would lead to a satisfying conclusion for himself. He’s beyond positive that Shizuo will do everything in his monstrous power to keep him from Delic but he’s not worried that Shizuo will succeed or fail in that, it’s what he might tell the little blond to have him sending Izaya away himself. Any lie could easily result in serious damage and he can’t bare the look they might get if they fight in Delic’s very bedroom. All of the things he’s bought Delic or given him the money to spend on whatever for himself could be broken apart like brittle dry wood in Shizuo’s fingers.

 

“Years.”

 

Shizuo’s eye blow open as he eases back a fraction, utterly gobsmacked. His voice trembles when he finds it again to whisper, “ _What?_ ”

 

Forty seconds pass with the shock eclipsing and stalling every fiber of Shizuo’s being. His hands shake as they rise to comb through his hair roughly. “ _Years?_ ” Shizuo asks. He couldn’t’ve heard the pest right, but Izaya’s staying silent as the turmoil crashes into him.

 

“All this time, you knew about him.” Shizuo’s brain is racked with whys and hows that he’s not entirely interested in knowing. He _needs_ to know Izaya’s goal in this, _needs_ to know what the parasite’s been feeding his kid. His mind replays their interactions and his mouth twists in disgust. Delic had called Izaya _important_ to him, his prior upset during their talk makes so much more sense to the blond now. Delic might need _therapy_ from whatever horseshit Izaya’s stitched into his brain. Shizuo’s mind is stuffed too full and his tongue isn’t waiting for his filter to boot back up. “You knew about him for _years_. He’s only nine, so _how many years?_ ”

 

When Izaya stays silent, Shizuo cracks again. “Since he was _born? Before?_ ” His voice rises, volume threatening to be heard over the music playing downstairs. “ _How many years did I not get to be in my son’s life but you_ _got_ _to screw him up?!_ ”

 

Shizuo’s hands grab the brunet again, lifting and shoving him against the wall once more. “ _Give me a reason not to end your miserable existence._ ”

 

Izaya finally speaks again, his voice quiet but still even. “You would hurt Delic beyond words and, with my death and your imprisonment, you’ll leave him with no one.”

 

The blond’s grip tightens with a growl, pressing Izaya harder against the wall before faltering and dropping him again. “ _Bastard._ Having no one is better than having _you_.”

 

Izaya exhales as his lip quirks. “Deli-chin must think differently.”

 

“ _Don’t you dare give my kid one of your shitty nicknames._ What kind of bullshit have you been filling his head with? How long have you been fucking with his mind? Are you the reason his mother’s not around?” Izaya’s expression wipes back away and Shizuo feels as if he’s struck gold. “ _What did you do?_ ”

 

Izaya is still against the wall when the blond advances on him again. “Did you chase her away? Threaten her? Bribe her?” Ages aside, Shizuo considered himself the real reason why she wasn’t necessarily around, but, if Izaya’s had his hands in this for _years_ , then Shizuo has no idea what could’ve gone down.

 

“He was given up of their own volition.”

 

“So, _if_ I fucking believe you, you then – _what_ – swooped in like a _fucking vulture_ to fuck up my kid to hurt me?”

 

“So egotistical, Shizu-chan must think everything I do is about him.”

 

“ _You’re here aren’t you?!_ _Prove me wrong!_ ” The blond shouts, too close to the brunet’s face, and Izaya flinches, fearing that he’ll be heard, but it’s the last straw that he can carry.

 

“ _How?_ You’re always so certain of my ill intentions, why should I waste the time proving otherwise? You haven’t even considered Delic’s own words.”

 

“He’s _a kid_ , who knows what you’ve put into his head!”

 

“So, Delic has no autonomy to make his own conclusions?”

 

“You’ve fooled others before, don’t even try saying that you couldn’t with him too.”

 

Izaya can’t, not when the little boy looks at him so hopefully, but the truth doesn’t matter when Shizuo only wants to see and hear what he wants. “I’m not arguing this with you anymore. Deli-chin wants us to play nice around him, I can manage that if you can.”

 

Shizuo’s face is aghast with disbelief. “You think that I’m just going to _allow_ you near my kid again?”

 

“No,” the brunet says earnestly. “But there’s nothing that you can do to keep me away from him, Shizu-chan. Especially now that you know about my presence in his life. I’ll be visiting him any time I want just as I always did.”

 

Restraint broken, Shizuo grabs Izaya again and shoves the brunet against the wall once more, the force knocks over knick-knacks on the shelves and the crack grows. Izaya grunts when his head connects this time, it’s the last blow he’s willing to take in stride. “ _You think you have a fucking right to see_ _my son?_ ”

 

Izaya’s eyes narrow into slits, the venom glowing in his furious eyes like a snake backed into a corner. He can’t swat away Shizuo’s grip on his shoulders and he regrets putting his knives elsewhere before sitting down with Delic, but the boy’s tied both of their hands. He should be grateful that the blond’s kept himself in check so well, even if neither of them will be able to hide the damage done to the wall. He’ll think of something to say about it later, he’ll have to.

 

Izaya’s only got the one card left to play in response. Nothing else will get him closer to what he wants and shut the blond up. With all the spite he can muster, Izaya leans forward against Shizuo’s grip and simpers, “I have every right to see my son.”

 

There’s the faintest of weight off of his shoulders with the admittance, but what’s a meager paperweight compared to the world crashing down around him? Shizuo’s freezing, his fingers slowly peeling off of Izaya one by one. Confusion is bleeding out of every crease of his form, the raw anger dispensing for absurdity.

 

“What the fuck? There’s no way, I took a DNA test. And Delic’s… _Delic._ ” Who else could he have gotten that body from?

 

“Congratulations, Shizu-chan. Would you like to see my stretchmarks? I’ve tried most removing lotions, but not much has worked on them.”

 

Shizuo’s eyes narrow on Izaya, the brunet’s casualness with the whole thing unsettling him. “Are you trying to spin something to make me believe that my kid’s some science experiment?”

 

“Thirty and Shizu-chan still doesn’t know how procreation works, how shameful.”

 

“ _Cut the shit!_ There’s _no way_ that he’s both of ours.”

 

“Coming inside of someone else without a condom is actually the most popular way.”

 

“You call me an idiot but you want me to believe that I impregnated your ass?”

 

Amusement glints in the informant’s eyes, a smirk spreading across his face. “Shizu-chan thinks we did anal.” Izaya raises one shoulder to shrug with a kept laugh. “Well, I suppose a hole is a hole. You can’t afford to be picky when you take whatever you can get.”

 

The timing is right and the fact buzzes in Shizuo’s mind like an angry wasp. There was only two people he slept with around his twentieth birthday and just because he can’t remember his other one-night stand doesn’t mean he confused them with Izaya. He remembers the night well enough, just like with all of the rest of his biggest mistakes. The vivid vision of the brunet on all fours below him with his face mashed into the pillows is right there when he closes his eyes to blink. Shizuo remembers not being drunk enough to not be annoyed that Izaya kept trying to lean back into him and eventually shoving him down into the pillows to stop his blabbering. The bastard _talked_ during intercourse, how could he possibly forget who he was fucking?

 

Shizuo shakes his head, denial already on his lips, but Izaya’s now scoffing with that same expression of humor and confidence and his eyes have always been the first things Shizuo’s ever looked at. “ _Fuck._ ” Izaya’s now curious eyes are back on him, searching Shizuo’s eyes for something as he stands there completely still.

 

“I wasn’t meant to find out,” the blond says softly. Izaya doesn’t have to tell him that he’s right, doesn’t think it’d matter with how much fury is voiding out every other emotion in Shizuo’s eyes. “ _You kept m_ _e from being part of his life from the very beginning._ ”

 

Izaya doesn’t get a chance to brace himself as he’s shoved against the wall again, the crater his body had been producing fully forming and rattling one of the figurines off of the shelf and to the floor. “ _First words, first steps. Every birthday, every nap and every playtime. I wanted to be there!_ ” Shizuo’s voice is stricken in a way Izaya’s never heard before. His voice cracks and hitches unnaturally, his words coming out with huge expulsions of breath. When the dizziness from the blow fades from Izaya’s vision he sees the tears clearly. “ _You denied me that!_ ”

 

Shizuo’s heart is pumping enough noise to flood his ears. His lungs are spazzing, his chest jumping as he desperately tries to gather air. His hands actually leave the smaller man to run through and grip his hair. Shizuo’s worked up in a way that Izaya’s never witnessed and he’s unnerved by it. “ _I had to learn about my son nine years into his life! His name, his favorite color, if he’s fucking allergic to anything!_ _All of it!_ ” Izaya’s morbidly transfixed on each and every tear that slides down and drips from the man’s face in front of him. Shizuo’s hunching more and more by the second, unable to keep a decent posture with how sunken his chest feels. Each inhale comes back out with a rattle and potential sob. He only knows about his son through a fucking _fluke_.

 

The informant has to know how much this means to him, how badly Shizuo yearns for some speck of normalcy and to have someone to care for that isn’t petrified of him, how he probably would’ve let Izaya riddle him with wounds and marks just to be there to watch his infant nap in their crib, and yet he still did all of this to him. Of all the people of the word, Izaya singled out Shizuo to torture. Dropping to sit on the floor, Shizuo crumbles into himself as more tears pour out of him with heavy breaths.

 

“I wasn’t there for much of those times either,” Izaya quietly admits and Shizuo scoffs with his retort. “At least you had the choice.”

 

“I only wanted to keep him safe.”

 

Shizuo’s head whirls on in an instant, teeth grit and bleary eyes narrowed. “How low do you fucking think I am?”

 

“Not from you. Don’t you realize how much danger Delic’s in from being seen with you. Can you imagine if I was seen with him?”

 

“How much prospective danger is worth being there for him, huh?” Shizuo slings back. “Don’t you have an ounce of love for the kid?”

 

“ _Don’t you even dare, Shizu-chan._ I denied myself parts of his growth to have the peace of mind that my enemies won’t be at his heels when he walks to school. I have to slink around and triple check my back just to spend an evening with him. Do you know how much he’s begged me to take him places and I have to deny him that happiness every single time for his safety.”

 

Blinking away old tears, Shizuo is finally able to see enough to examine the brunet as Izaya’s words sink in. The boy used the word _friend_ specifically, and with how Izaya’s been speaking… “Delic doesn’t know that you’re his mother.”

 

Izaya’s eyes widen slightly before quickly re-situating. “I’m not his mother, I’m his other father.”

 

Shizuo’s not sure if he should be grateful that his kid doesn’t know that he’s related to this fucking parasite or not, but, all the same, he kind of deserves to know if Shizuo does. Delic wanted to know about who his mother was or, rather, is. He wouldn’t’ve asked Shizuo if he didn’t want to know. The blond wipes away the tears on his face before standing up, the spontaneous determination in his gaze sending a fearful chill down Izaya’s spine.

 

Izaya lurches forward to grab the blond’s arm before he’s conscious of his own actions. “Shizuo, don’t. _Please._ ”

 

“He has a right to know.” Shizuo walks towards the door, the brunet’s weight meaningless as he latches his entire body to Shizuo’s arm.

 

“You can’t! It’ll crush him!”

 

“Some things have to be said even if they hurt.”

 

Izaya jerks away from his body when they reach the door, flinging himself against the wood to keep it closed. He knows he won’t be able to stop Shizuo from opening door, the blond wouldn’t even need a fraction of his strength to pass through Izaya, but he has to try _something,_ _anything_.

 

“ _Please, he’ll hate me._ ” He pleads as his last ditch effort. It physically hurts to beg the beast, but what else can he do? “You have to know better than anyone what that fear feels like.”

 

Shizuo actually stills in place with the words, his fingers poised inches away from the door knob. Swirling inside of Izaya’s eyes are emotions he knows too well. It’s almost scary how human the other man in front of him suddenly is. It’s Shizuo’s weakest spot and Izaya certainly knows that, but, looking at the brunet and his wide, frantically desperate eyes, Shizuo doesn’t feel like Izaya’s mentioned it because he can take advantage of Shizuo with it.

 

Still looking into the smaller male’s eyes, he coldly says, “Maybe he should.”

 

Izaya’s eyes widen further and his mouth slowly gapes. He suddenly cannot breathe and his body feels so numb that he doesn’t register the tears flowing down his cheeks or the burning of his lungs begging for air. The blond begins reaching for the doorknob again and Izaya flinches harshly against the door, as if struck with a backhand.

 

“ _Please,_ ” he begs, the word choked between sobs. There’s nothing he can offer Shizuo to convince him not to tell Delic, Izaya can only hope that the beast kills him in the resulting struggle when he tries to open the door. He can’t bare the mere thought of the aftermath of Delic finding out but every scenario plagues his mind like a raging disease. With the stark resemblance to his other father, Izaya’s imagination doesn’t have far to reach to conjure up the image of the little boy looking at him with such hatred. It sends his heart plummeting down below his stomach, below where his uneasy feet stand on the floor, and into the awaiting grave nipping at his heels.

 

Shizuo stands there silently, watching Izaya break down against the door and cry softly to himself. His body is waiting for that final turn of the key in the ignition, itching for that instinctual push to bruise and break his long-time tormentor, but with each flex of his fingers his brain lights up with that fragile face begging him not to harm the bastard that’s damaged both of their lives with one fell swoop. Delic’s tune might change if Shizuo told him the truth, but there’s so much that he doesn’t know about that he’ll be uprooting with it. Izaya’s so petrified of being found out by their child that he’s practically on his knees in front of his worst enemy. It’s _unsettling_. What the fuck has he been saying to their kid all of these years?

 

Shizuo inhales deeply and sighs all of the air out of his lungs, leaving his stressed brain feeling momentarily floaty. His hand retracts from reaching for the doorknob to rub at his temple. “What have you been doing to him?” He asks, voice steadier than he anticipated it would be after the emotionally draining wringer he’s been put through.

 

Izaya blearily blinks at Shizuo from against the door, “I’ve never hurt my son.”

 

“ _Shitty bastard,_ you’ve been hurting him for _years._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This took so much, I'm not even sure what I feel anymore.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! (Especially with these major chapters!) As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	21. All I Know are Sad Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delic deals with the aftermath of his plan and Shizuo and Izaya continue arguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must correct a minor error in the last chapter. My math was off, Shizuo is meant to be thirty rather than twenty-nine.

Music blasted throughout the apartment, bombarding any creature with eardrums with sound that like fired cannonballs, but it didn’t feel like _enough_ to Delic. He’d left his headphones and music player upstairs in his room and there was no way he was going back to retrieve them. His legs felt and shook like gelatin. The young blond was restless and itching with remnants of fear. Delic’s body wanted him to _move_ and was dead-set on making him suffer for not doing so. Maybe he can get Miss Mari to pull out his drum kit from storage so he can beat out his frustrations. But then, what if he breaks them? With how out of control he feels right now, it’s almost a certain possibility.

 

His father had barely looked at him, too transfixed on the other man. Delic never had a such a perfect view of his father’s eyes when Izaya was brought up. Hard like stone, but not as cold as expected. No, the contained fire in Shizuo’s eyes burned _hot_. Delic’s science class was revisiting the topic of volcanoes recently and the comparison fit perfectly in his mind.

 

 _He didn’t promise_ , is all the boy can think about.

 

The look isn’t the cause of his shakes, Delic knows for certain. If anything, it felt familiar in a way that made his stomach compress.

 

What kept his nerves on the edge was the way the two looked at one another, like a fatally wounded rabbit and a sapient mass of gasoline being approached by a lit match, and the stark silence. Silence meant his mind could wander wherever it pleased and that was the last thing Delic wanted.

 

He had _lied_. He had lied straight to his father, and he had lied to his father by omission. His plan had worked but now, with what he witnessed, it might be backfiring in ways far worse than what he imagined.

 

 _Liar_ , arrives the first compulsory thought.

 

 _It’s no big deal_ , Delic shrugs to himself. He lies _a lot_. Practically _all the time_. This time it was an acceptable lie. He just wanted to stop the mess he was in the middle of. He can justify this one lie.

 

 _He’ll leave_ , comes the second thought and it makes Delic’s veins flood with ice water. The chill is in his bones. His body trembles in place for a minute before he jerks from the spot on the couch he’s failed to nestle in. The radio station he’s set on the stereo continues playing rambunctious pop numbers but his ears are ringing with steady white noise. For the briefest second, Delic’s heart clenches in fear that Miss Mari’s warnings are right and that he might be developing tinnitus.

 

Delic can’t stay on the couch anymore, his legs need to _move_. There’s nowhere to go that will supply him with avenues of relief. He can’t hide away in his bedroom or retrieve any of his comfort items and it’s too late for him to sneak out. Delic’s panting before he’s off of the couch and running. He’s not sure where he’s going, but his feet lead him to the downstairs bedroom.

 

Mari’s on her laptop at her desk when the door hastily opens. Her eyes rise to the small blond immediately and her face falls when she examines him in the soft light. Delic’s eyes are going pink, rivets of tears flooding his eyes and streaming down his cheeks, and his entire body trembles like an unbundled baby in winter. Getting out of her seat, Mari steps around the desk and opens her arms.

 

“Oh, Delic,” she coos gingerly, as if he were a frightened fawn, “Come here.”

 

Delic jolts across the room, diving straight into the young woman’s waiting arms and burying his face against her body. He’s blubbering something she can’t make out through the muffled stuttering and crying, but whatever he has to say can wait for when he’s composed himself better.

 

“Shh,” she hushes while petting his hair, “Just let it out first.”

 

* * *

 

“If Shizu-chan’s going to accuse me of being a neglectful parent--”

 

“ _Damn right,_ ” the blond aggressively interjects.

 

Izaya scoffs instead of finishing his sentence. “Ridiculous,” he murmurs under his breath. “I’ve never presented myself as his parental figure--”

 

“ _Horse shit,_ ” Shizuo spits. “You were _just_ on your knees for him.”

 

“Was I not supposed to provide comfort to a distraught child? His _father_ was too preoccupied to do it himself.”

 

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Shizuo exhales exasperatingly. Too much has happened too soon and his energy is depleting, his brain already aching from the influx of stress. Arguing with Izaya is like running in circles and he doesn’t have the time or patience for it. “ _Listen,_ ” he starts authoritatively, “You _don’t_ get to have your cake and eat it too. Delic’s a child, he needs the presence of his parents to be stable.” Loneliness encompassed the kid like a second skin, it was horrendously obvious to Shizuo, so it had to be just as obvious, if not more, to Izaya, right? Shizuo’s no genius but he reads and takes the advice of those who know what they’re talking about, and, when they all say the same things, he listens dutifully. “ _Tell him the truth_ or leave us alone. If you act like how I saw all the time, then you’re only going to hurt him more in the long run.” Delic thrives under attention, if he’s distracted by or too focused on getting parental affection from the unstable source that is Izaya, then he could get seriously screwed up internally.

 

Izaya opens his mouth to retort when the music spontaneously cuts, leaving a heavy silence hanging in the air. Shizuo’s hand shoots back to the broken doorknob, yanking the door open with enough force to shove the brunet out of his path. Turning his head back to the other man on his way out, Shizuo warns, “Decide soon, ‘cause the next time he asks me anything, I’m _not_ lying to his face.”

 

“You’re so adamant that I put our child in danger,” Izaya quietly hisses, closely following behind the blond.

 

“He’s in danger no matter what, he’s _ours_.”

 

“You’re consistently amazing me with how _stupid_ you can be, Shizu-chan. Do you really not understand the disparity between the two of our social circles?”

 

“Do _you_ realize that there are no other options here?” The blond whirls back, “You hide him from the world; he hates you and isn’t prepared for how shit is. You let him traverse the world alone; he gets hurt and taken advantage of with no one there to help him. I’m petrified of what could happen to Delic because of me, but at least he won’t suffer more because I’m not there for him.”

 

“ _Imbecile._ They’re not thugs and angry debtors, they’re fucking _yakuza!_ ”

 

“ _Gentlemen,_ ” Mari tersely cuts in from the bottom of the stairs, snapping both of their heads over the railing and down in her direction. “Perhaps you two should retire for the evening. Delic’s fallen asleep in my quarters.”

 

“Should I put him to bed?” Shizuo softly asks after a beat of silence.

 

“...I believe that it’s for the best that we not risk rousing him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I've recently had a tough speed-bump in my life, so writing was pushed back quite a bit. I believe this marks my slow return though! This is an appropriate time to remind my commentors that, while I truly don't mind people sending my tumblr asks about story progression, please refrain from leaving comments that are solely asking for updates. While reading about how someone is excited and eagerly awaiting my update is very motivating, a single line that reads as demanding or entitled can be rather disheartening, especially when I already beat myself up for not keeping my updates fairly regular. Please be considerate of the human beings behind your favorite fanworks!
> 
> I intended to be far more wordy in this note section, but I fear that I might take up too much space going on about the topic of parental (figure) neglect and the general after-affects of lack of attention towards children. As a victim of it, there's an overabundance that I could say from personal experience alone. I hope this chapter was enough to set some ground-works that others have less overtly, though I still fear it isn't.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! I know that I copy and paste this line for every chapter, but I struggle to express how much my regulars and lurkers that take their time to say something really mean to me. As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	22. Uncomfortable Conversations That Lead Almost Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Izaya continue to argue and talk about things.

Shizuo sits hunched on one end of the living room couch as Izaya sits up straight on the other end. He rubs his face and rakes his fingers through his hair to soothe away some stress with the motions. Their whole situation is _fucked_ and Shizuo’s not entirely sure how to proceed. He _wants_ and _needs_ to know about everything that’s transpired under his nose, but his only way of knowing anything is by asking Izaya and trusting what he says. Well, except perhaps the young woman Izaya most certainly pays to care for their child. She’s under Izaya’s thumb anyway, so he might as well hear it straight from the serpent’s mouth.

 

“So,” the blond starts flatly, “We had… unprotected sex and… I got you pregnant.”

 

Izaya turns his head towards him as Shizuo continues processing what he wants to say or ask next. His mouth opens and closes and his frustration mounts. Izaya could never just say things straightforwardly, alluding to things instead and making everything all the more difficult. As Delic’s other biological parent, Shizuo’s stuck with dealing with Izaya. The mere passing thought that he’s going to have to deal with this horseshit on a regular basis is enough to reignite his headache.

 

Shizuo growls under his breath to release some rising anger and “You have a vagina.” flies out of his mouth a bit more awkwardly and accusatory than he intended.

 

“Your junior high health teacher must be so proud,” Izaya comments flatly.

 

“ _Fuck off_ , I’m trying here! You think I know anything about this shit?!”

 

The brunet’s lips press together as his eyes flicker over the other man. His eyes swirl with trepidation momentarily before his tense shoulders sag minutely. “Yes, Shizuo,” Izaya says softly, “I’m transgender.”

 

Shizuo exhales his acknowledgment with a relieved “Ah.” and the silence threatening to bare back down upon the two curls uncomfortably in Izaya’s stomach.

 

“That’s it?” The brunet asks once three minutes of silence has become too much for his peace of mind.

 

Shizuo runs a hand through his hair again, splaying out his fingers after the motion.“...Is there more to it that I gotta know about?”

 

Izaya blinks owlishly then huffs, putting his elbow on the couch armrest and resting his chin in his palm. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or upset. It’s ridiculous to be distraught that his identity is being taken and understood well. Perhaps what truly has him twisted up is that _of course_ _Shizuo_ would understand, Izaya should’ve known or, at the very, least guessed that. He likely relates, albeit in a loose manner. Izaya’s disappointed in himself for ever worrying what the blond might say or think to begin with.

 

“Do you think...” Shizuo trails hesitantly. “Y’know, Delic is…?”

 

“He’s not,” the brunet answers simply. “I’ve asked him questions that would tell me otherwise. Besides,” Izaya’s lips quirks with a smirk, “I didn’t raise him with simple-minded restrictions.”

 

“Did you raise him _at all_?” Shizuo asks before he can stop himself. The words are biting, and he’s not sure if he feels regret about it or not. He doesn’t want to start another fight, not here under the same roof as their son, but being civil with Izaya is a new and still arduous task. Shizuo might have been able to put a leash on his anger for now, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still furious that he was kept out of his son’s life for so long. It’s like a fire that burns deep and brutally in his chest, a sliver of a broken blade that’s imbedded in his chest that stabs his heart whenever he remembers the detail.

 

Izaya hesitates visibly, lips parting just centimeters and eyes widening a fraction. He pressed his lips together and wets them, shifting awkwardly on the couch. There’s an entire seat between them, but somehow the blond still seems _too close_. “Yes, as much as I could be.” He admits after an elongated pause. “Through his infancy and most of his early development.”

 

Shizuo’s eyes and lips begin pinching. His mouth wavers, but he quietly forces out, “What was his first word?”

 

“Cat,” Izaya answers pleasantly and the blond erupts with a soft laugh. “Deli-chin had this white stuffed plush that you could never take away from him. He used to press it so hard against his face that it’d squish his cheek.” The brunet smiles fondly and waves his hand dismissively, “I believe it’s been thrown out now.”

 

“It’s in some of the pictures,” Shizuo croaks through kept tears.

 

Izaya nods curtly. It was a struggle to keep cameras out of his hands when Delic was young. Izaya himself couldn’t be in any of them for if they were ever found, but he never spared any film or memory space if it meant a way to look back on better memories or to see and keep tabs on what he missed while away.

 

“You’ve gone through the albums?”

 

“ _God, yes._ A hundred times, probably.”

 

“And the DVDs?”

 

“Yeah-- _Fuck,_ no wonder he’s so smart.”

 

“Of course Deli-chin didn’t inherit any of his brains from _you,_ ” Izaya laughs openly and his face is quickly met with one of the couch pillows. He grunts with the light (by Shizuo’s standard) smack and tosses the pillow back at the blond’s chest with both hands.

 

“Better not to inherit my stupidity than your shitty--” Shizuo unexpectantly halts. His eyes widen and his lips part in horror, twisting as they go. Izaya narrows his eyes suspiciously at the other man as he appears to have witnessed an eldritch horror.

 

“Delic’s just like _you,_ ” Shizuo says, the creeping terror rising in his voice.

 

Izaya tilts his head and opens his mouth, but Shizuo continues on undeterred. “He puts up a front, he doesn’t always say what he entirely means, he interrupts to keep the conversation going where he wants it, he-- Delic set this up, didn’t he?”

 

After a beat, Izaya replies, “In another situation, I would be proud.”

 

“Of course you would,” Shizuo mutters.

 

Silence stretches between the two, awkward and heavy. Izaya shifts in his seat, scooting closer to the edge of the cushion, and Shizuo rakes through his hair again with a fresh sigh.

 

“How the fuck are we supposed to make this work?”

 

“Well, the obvious answer would be to take things one day at a time.”

 

“Yeah, I...I guess.” The blond leans back on the couch, his eyes drifting to the closed door behind them. Delic probably fell asleep crying over what the two of them were doing and the thought stirs up the bile in Shizuo’s stomach.

 

“By the way, Izaya, what the hell are you wearing?”

 

The informant perks up, spreading his arms out to show off the repeated sushi design on his two piece sleepwear. “How nice of Shizu-chan to finally notice my jammies!” Shizuo snorts abruptly. He had never heard of pajamas being called that until the little boy, but the music notes on the Delic’s set had been the cherry on top. “Preferable if you had before throwing me against a wall, but I suppose that I can rarely fully predict how unperceptive and slow you can be.”

 

“ _Shit,_ ” the blond jerks upright on the couch, “ _How am I gonna explain the wall?_ ” His son’s already cried himself to sleep because of him, Shizuo can’t bare disappointing him further with the damning evidence. Delic had looked so petrified that the two would hurt one another.

 

“I’ll call someone.”

 

“You can’t just call some random guy to fix our child’s wall at night!” What would they even say to the guy? They’d probably look like they’re covering up some act of domestic abuse. Izaya is just going to get dirt on the poor soul he hires to ensure they never speak about the job too.

 

“You have a better solution, Shizu-chan?”

 

Shizuo’s mouth opens in rebuttal but, in the time between inhaling and getting his words out, his mind actually provides him with an answer. “Yeah, if you can deal with someone else knowing the truth.” Shit, they have to talk about that too. Shizuo suspects that he’s going to be kicking at least Shinra’s ass into next year. Celty will forgive him, if not join him.

 

“Who,” the brunet asks, suspicion in swirling in his eyes.

 

“Kadota.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hello all. This is the chapter I've been waiting for to talk about something that's really gotten under my skin. And to preface, this is more of an issue on FanFiction.Net, where I cross-post my stories, but AO3 is the platform that allows me to create Author Notes. (It's against the rules to do anything of the such on FF.Net.) I'm not going to censor comments, but I want to remind my commentors that Izaya is transgender in this fic. I've had it tagged as such for a very long time now. But what I mean by stating this outright is that those of you that have been using female pronouns and titles, like mother and mama, are misgendering and being transphobic as a result, be it intentionally or not. I ask that you please refrain from doing as such in my comment section.
> 
> I do really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	23. Number One (Expectations)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo is consistently tested by Izaya, Delic handles things poorly.

Kadota’s eyes keep bouncing between the duo on the couch. He feels a bit like an underpaid therapist, off to the side on his own private recliner. “You should tell him,” he finally says, focus settling on Izaya. “If he hears it from anyone else, he’ll be more hurt. I don’t really know the kid, but he’s old enough and he’s _yours_ , so, he can handle it.”

 

“ _Thank you,_ ” Shizuo blurts out.

 

“What about the wall?” Izaya ask demandingly, as if it’s clearly the more important topic at hand.

 

“Well, it’s a simple enough drywall job, but it’s gonna smell and be fairly loud.”

 

“Deli-chin’s a rock once asleep,” the brunet dismisses. Covering up the smell, however…

 

“It’d be easier to, you know, tell him that you broke the wall.”

 

“No, it won’t,” both fathers say simultaneously, one voice shameful and the other fearful.

 

* * *

 

Delic wakes up in Miss Mari’s bed with sore, fatigued eyes and the sheets snugly tucked in around him. His lips press together tightly as his achy mind groggily wakes up. He’ll have to leave the bed eventually, but his stomach churns with fear. He doesn’t want to walk out of the room to find the apartment lacking one or two of the three adults in his life. The little boy really didn’t mean to fall asleep before finding out if the two had worked through some of their issues and now… Delic yanks the cover up and over his head.

 

“Good morning,” Mari greets gently from her desk in the corner.

 

Delic wriggles deeper into the sheets, cocooning himself in their softness. “Mornin’,” he says, though horrendously muffled.

 

“Now that you’re awake, would you care to debate your options for breakfast?” Delic groans as his answer, cueing the young woman to release a chuckle. “I believe we’ve settled on pancakes, despite numerous complaints.”

 

The little boy perks up in his nest, the mass of covers shifting. _We?_ “Pancakes?” _Complaints?!_

 

“Mhmm,” Mari hums around her cup of tea. Her lips curl as her voice dips with incitement. “Chocolate chip.”

 

Delic can’t deny that sweets always make him feel better, nor the fact that he never had any game-time snacks last night. Hesitantly kicking the sheets off of himself, he sits up and rubs at his weary eyes. Drinking water will fade away his headache in time, but his session of crying will leave his eyes tired all day. If he’s lucky, he won’t have to read the chalkboards at school much today. Quickly scooting off of the bed, Delic lets himself out of the bedroom and into the open living room where the scent of batter cooking has wafted around the space.

 

Out of the quiet room, there’s a noisy clatter of utensils and a revving a growl. “If you don’t _shut up_ , I’m ripping everything out of the fridge, stuffing you inside, and turning it to face the wall!”

 

“Not only are you adamant about giving Deli-chin early on-set diabetes, but you’re willing to waste all of the good, healthier alternatives he has?”

 

“Do _you_ want early on-set _death?!_ ” Delic peeks into the kitchen on time to see the way his father’s fingers twitch towards the handle of the large skillet sizzling on their stove-top.

 

Izaya sneers, “Threatening violence already? Why it’s barely seven, Shizu-chan!”

 

Delic’s heart clenches as Shizuo’s grit teeth grind and his open hand jerks back. Izaya instinctively steps back when the blond lunges at him and his hips knock against the counter-top painfully. His hands surge at the informant, but Izaya doesn’t anticipate Shizuo gripping his jaw and holding it open.

 

“ _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ ” he growls out, two fingers forcing a pancake into the brunet’s mouth and puffing out his cheeks like a squirrel. Izaya chokes noisily, eyes narrowing into angry slits when Shizuo slaps his palm over his mouth to keep the food inside.

 

“Are you guys _always_ like _this?_ ” Delic demands suddenly, startling the two and snapping their attention to him. The duo tense as they read his clear distress. Shizuo’s eyes fixate on the floor tiles as he releases and backs away Izaya, who immediately reaches for a paper towel to spit out the pancake.

 

“Kinda, yeah,” the blond quietly admits. Delic’s expression twists further and Shizuo sighs when he turns on his heels to leave the kitchen.

 

“Good job, Shizu-chan.” Izaya says after hearing the click of the bathroom door closing.

 

The blond whirls around with a deep breath, mouth opening then snapping shut with an audible _cl_ _a_ _ck_. Shizuo counts down from ten twice before he feels calm enough to not to break the cooking utensils. “First rule,” he begins, trying to save the remaining pancakes in the skillet from burning.

 

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Izaya blinks, eyelashes fluttering with disbelief.

 

“No egging me on, _at all._ ” The brunet guffaws. “And piss-off with the backseat parenting. If you wanna be dad number two, it’s full time or no time.”

 

“ _Number two,_ ” Izaya exhales indignantly.

 

“You got a better way to differentiate?” Izaya stays quiet, his eyes and lips pinched, and the corner of Shizuo’s lip twitches. “Didn’t think so.”

 

* * *

 

Something in Delic’s room feels off. He notices the askew feeling in his gut when he trudges into his bedroom to finish getting ready for school. His bedsheets are still ruffled from someone sleeping there in his place and a few of his figurines have been moved slightly as if they were picked up to be examined, but neither of these things cue his gut to curl.

 

Delic’s nose wrinkles as his eyes trance around the room while changing his clothes. “Something stinks,” he mutters to himself.

 

Gathering his books and schoolbag, Delic rushes down the stairs to the front door. “Going to school, bye!” He grips and turns the handle, forcefully yanking the door open only for it to halt part-way by another hand. Delic swallows and schools his face before turning around, unexpectantly facing a plate of pancakes as they’re gestured towards his face.

 

“Be upset, but don’t stunt your growth, got it?” Shizuo advises bluntly.

 

Delic fidgets, shifting from foot to foot, before hesitantly taking hold of the plate. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

Shizuo nods, the new title still warming his face. “Have a good day.”

 

“Have a good day.” Stuffing the stack of pancakes between the fingers of one hand, Delic hands the empty plate back and slinks around the open door to school.

 

Shizuo shuts the door behind the boy and turns back towards the kitchen where Izaya’s now leaning against the door frame. The brunet’s face is still pinched together, his eyes lazily following the blond as he heads to clean up.

 

“Six pancakes, Shizu-chan.” He says, eyes bouncing to the empty plate momentarily. “All bigger than my _fist_.”

 

“You’re about to see my fist to compare if you don’t _fuck off_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite awhile since I've updated this fanfic. It's not due to lack of interest and more reliant on how much I can handle, this story is rather emotionally taxing to write at times! If you haven't been reading my latest DeliHibi fic, then you haven't noticed some personal improvement in my writing until now. I hope any differences in my style that might crop up isn't a bother!
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	24. The Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Tom have a conversation during work. Meanwhile, Delic runs in to some strange people on his way to school.

“Rough night?” Tom asks as Shizuo approaches him. The blond’s hair is mused from fingers consistently combing through it and his lack of sleep is more than evident around his dark ringed eyes. Tom wonders what’s rocked the boat this time around, his friend’s happiness never lasts too long and it’s an utter shame. He didn’t anticipate smooth sailing the whole way, but it honestly seemed like Shizuo had found his beacon of light in the darkness.

 

“Putting it mildly,” he husks.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Tom offers and Shizuo’s frown furthers. He’s not sure how much he can say without spilling Izaya’s secret. He can trust Tom, but the issue at hand is more that it’s not his place to tell.

 

“I met Delic’s mother last night,” Shizuo settles on offering up quietly. He pulls out his carton of cigarettes from his vest pocket to keep his hands busy, sticking one stick between his lips. “They’re a piece of shit,” he says offhandedly before lighting up.

 

“Man...” Tom trails off as he follows suit with his own smoke. He gestures down the street with a brief nod and they begin walking towards their first stop. A minute of silence passes by before Tom quirks an eyebrow at his companion. “I thought you said that she wasn’t around?”

 

Shizuo’s gaze narrows minutely, tired voice more gravelly than normal. “Not _as_ his parent, no.” Izaya had made it clear that he thought he wasn’t a paternal figure to Delic, but what _he_ thought didn’t matter because Delic probably saw him as one anyway. The informant hadn’t found a loophole by not taking on a title, he was just being his usual infuriating self. Worse was witnessing all of his micromanaging with their son. A fight had broken out just because the brunet didn’t want Delic eating pancakes for breakfast for fuck’s sake.

 

“Damn. So, she’s like… Behind the scenes or something?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, quietly and pinched. Shizuo’s fists have begun to clench at his sides as they walk, shaking with more strain by the second. Thinking about it all over again, he’s just as furious as he was earlier and last night. Idly, he bites and rolls the cigarette between his teeth.

 

“That’s gotta be rough on you,” he offers sympathetically, but Tom’s empathic words are the final straw on the camel’s back.

 

“ _It’s not about me or him_ ,” Shizuo grinds out loudly. Tom jolts a bit with surprise, remaining quiet to let the blond speak his mind. “ _It’s about Delic and it’s fucking him up!_ He cried himself to sleep last night and-- _Fuck!_ I think he was _scared_ to _look_ at me this morning!” Shizuo’s voice hitches and his throat clenches. Raking a hand through his hair, he exhales noisily through his nostrils.

 

Softly, he adds, “I think he saw me almost hit them.” The consequences of hurting Izaya had never really been something he had to worry about beyond possibly committing murder, but the thought of disappointment or worse, _fear,_ swimming in Delic’s eyes weighed far heavier on his mind than imprisonment.

 

Tom pats his hitched shoulder comfortingly. The only fragile part of Shizuo is his heart and his disappointment with himself is the only thing stronger than his physical prowess. Now that his world was beginning to orbit around the little boy, he was judging himself harsher.

 

“Hey, now. Delic’s lost his temper too, I’m sure he’s not mad at you for that. Just be sure to apologize. If you explain yourself and admit that you didn’t act appropriately, he’ll understand.”

 

Shizuo untenses a fraction as the words settle in his mind. “Thanks, Tom. For everything.”

 

The dreadlocked man shrugs. “Of course, man. So, uh… _He_?”

 

“ _Shit,_ ” Shizuo curses as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

 

“What kind of weird situation are you in, Shizuo?”

 

The blond inhales and exhales slowly as Tom patiently waits, thinking everything over as best as he possibly can with a headache roaring to life. Shizuo’s eyes sharpen, to Tom’s surprise, and scans around the street carefully. Satisfied that they have as much privacy as walking down the street can offer, the blond leans closer to his coworker to whisper.

 

“Izaya is Delic’s mother,” he hisses, then quickly corrects, “Father? Ugh, this shit is complex.”

 

“You had sex _with Izaya?_ ” Tom tries to comprehend, dwindling cigarette slipping from his lips as they part with shock.

 

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t remember it as well as I thought.”

 

“How wasted _were_ you?”

 

Shizuo’s eyes widen, his frown crooking sheepishly. “E-Enough?!”

 

The question strikes him though, clicking something together in his mind. “I don’t regret it,” he says flatly, slightly shocked with his own admittance. Shizuo’s face settles in to a more neutral expression as he continues processing his feelings.

 

“Of course I don’t regret it anymore,” he says, more aloud to himself than to Tom, “look what came out of it.”

 

Shizuo feels a shiver of disgust run down his spine as he realizes that he’d make the same mistake all over again with the hindsight of the results. Sex with Izaya had been alright from what he remembers, but being stuck with dealing with his shitty personality and even scummier job for who knows how long is too much. Of all the people the condom had to break with, it had to be that flea. (Shit, hadn’t that lying bastard said that they never used one?!)

 

Fate _must_ have it out for him, but worse than his own aggravating situation is that their child suffers and _still is_ suffering. Delic doesn’t deserve this mess, no child does. Tolerating Izaya’s shit was Shizuo’s burden to bare, his price to pay, not the kid’s. The cigarette being sawed in two between Shizuo's teeth finally gives, snapping in two and falling to the concrete.

 

Tom carefully watches the blond as his fingers clench and unclench. The weariness from poor sleep on Shizuo’s face makes his agitated posture appear slightly more threatening than usual, but the determination in the blond’s eyes is clear as day to his long-time friend. He’s settled on a conclusion that he favors, Tom knows. All he can do is hope that things go in Shizuo’s favor, preferably for his kid’s sake.

 

Deciding on changing the topic, Tom snuffs out his cigarette. “So, you wanna paint the new apartment this weekend, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo answers absentmindedly. “I gotta ask Celty if she wants to help...” He trails off quietly as something else finally dawns on him. Shizuo’s posture straightens as scalding fury floods his eyes. “ _I’m gonna kill Shinra!_ ”

 

“After work?” Tom asks hesitantly, pressing his hands together in prayer and gesturing them towards the street.

 

“ _After work,_ ” the blond grinds out through clenched teeth.

 

* * *

 

Delic stuffs his face on his walk to school, even offering a few pinched off pieces of pancake to some stray cats that meow at him from the alleyways. His mind is still a mess and the sweet breakfast isn’t helping to ease away his sour thoughts. He really should’ve just listened to Izaya and not screwed around with their set-up. Sneaking around his father’s back would’ve hurt them both, _a lot,_ but seeing the two favored adults in his life practically at each other’s throats was definitely worse. He was told that they hated each other, but he was stupid and ignored the warnings, foolishly thinking he knew better.

 

Delic’s stomach churns and he stuffs the remainder of his fourth pancake into his mouth. He can’t tell what’s making him nauseous, but if it’s his meal, then at least he’ll get some relief if he throws it back up. The blond begins on his fifth when there’s a loud series of honks from a car on the street.

 

“Mini Shizu-Shizu! Hey!” The young woman in black yells while leaning out of the driver’s window, her body forcing the man in the driver seat to press back against the seat to give her room.

 

“Dammit, Erika!” Saburo curses, blindly reaching for the seat handle to scoot his seat back. Fighting her for room would only create more of a scene and, while used to it with her and Walker, it’d be bad to physically wrestle a woman in front of a child.

 

Delic chews what’s in his mouth as he crosses the street to approach the van. “Hi, Miss Van Lady. What’re you doing here?”

 

“Dotachin had some weird business!” She offers without hesitation, retracting back into the backseat to open the door and gush over the little boy. “You never answered me about taking your measurements! You have time right now, right?”

 

Delic’s nose wrinkles humorously as he takes another bite of dry pancake. He doesn’t recall agreeing to let her make him costumes and guesses that she just presumed he’d be okay with it. He did walk into a cosplay shop on impulse after-all. He supposes it’s not much of a stretch to presume he’d like such a thing, especially for free, as she appears to be offering. Dressing up as his father might be fun, even if he’s pretty positive that his dad will cry on the spot. The thought of matching his parent makes his chest suddenly feel warm and gooey and Delic stuffs more pancake into his mouth to deal with it.

 

“He’s in uniform, right now, Erika! He’s clearly going to school!”

 

“But we can drive him there, Saburo!”

 

Kadota leans out of the passenger window to appraise the little boy as the two argue. The kid’s eyes are still faintly swollen and he’s blinking too much for them not to still be sore. Seeing the new affects of Shizuo and Izaya’s fights makes him feel uneasy. He’s not sure that he likes keeping this secret, but he doesn’t want to think through all of the consequences if he spills. Unless Delic confides in him, it’s not his place to say anything.

 

“Okay,” Delic says after swallowing and Erika gasps excitedly. She claps her hands together and bounces in her seat, freezing still when the blond holds up one finger. “On some conditions.”

 

“Let’s hear ‘em!”

 

“I want some strawberry milk,” he starts off and Kadota fondly rolls his eyes at the resemblance running through his mind. “My costumes have to be _really_ accurate--”

 

“Of course!” Erika interrupts with a serious enthused nod. Walker mimics the action from behind her, though wisely choosing to stay silent.

 

“And,” Delic trails off, his eyes sharpening and scrutinizing the group. “I want one of Sailor Venus.” He crosses his arms and his nose lifts into the air, the remaining pancakes flopping in his hand and ruining his haughty act.

 

Saburo and Kadota share an odd look as Erika jolts out of her seat to grasp both of his hands in hers, strangely skillfully maneuvering around the food in his. “You got it!”

 

Delic’s nose wrinkles again as she begins shaking with excitement again, jostling his hands. “Can I have that drink now? I’m really thirsty, Miss Van Lady.”

 

“Just call me Erika, okay Deli-chin!”

 

The little boy jerks away roughly, startled by the nickname. His momentary shock must be poorly hidden as the woman gives him some space after the fox faced man elbows her back. She had called Kadota Dotachin, so he really shouldn’t’ve been so surprised. Mentally, Delic immediately chastises himself for his actions. Trying to play it off, he worms around the young woman to take a seat in the van.

 

Saburo gives him a peculiar glance from the rear-view mirror, starting the car regardlessly. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to get into a car with strange people?”

 

Delic refrains from an obvious joke, instead answering offhandedly. “If you tried anything, I could break your arm or car door to escape.”

 

His voice is too sincere, too calm, and too assured in his own abilities for it not to send a shiver up Kadota’s spine. Knowing that the kid is half Izaya jars with the resemblances to Shizuo in his mind. He hadn’t exactly played with Erika, letting her do exactly what she wanted, but the lack of fear in the little boy was concerning. His worries are probably unfounded though, and Kadota shakes his head to dislodge the thought. Shizuo likely told Delic that his group was safe or could be counted on.

 

As the car pulls away from the curb, Walker leans in towards Delic. Stroking his chin like a wise old man, the young man starts with a serious tone and smirk. “So, Sailor Venus… Your best girl?”

 

Delic’s eyes narrow dangerously, his free hand gripping his schoolbag as if he intends to use it as a weapon. “Why, you wanna fight about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably baited y'all with my summary, but... I doubt I'll get complaints. I could've waited to upload this, making it longer, but it has been some time since a last update. Funny enough, both of those things are things that I do get consistent complaints about. Anyway, I hope I continue to give the van gang justice!
> 
> To be chatty for a moment... I made Delic's birthday in this fic to be November 26th. (As previously stated in another chapter.) Meaning, that this boy probably celebrates three big events, one after another, in the span of three months. I don't want to consider the amount of spoiling that comes from Izaya, Shizuo, and Kasuka, mostly because it's sad to consider that Izaya probably didn't do trick-or-treating with Delic despite assuredly wanting to. Costume or not, it'd be risky for sure.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	25. Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo confronts Shinra. Meanwhile, more strange people show up in Delic's life.

The doorbell rings once, then twice before Shinra finally pulls himself away from nestling against Celty’s side to answer the door with an open pout. Partially verbalizing a greeting, the door slams open and Shinra’s hand flies from the handle as it flings open. Celty jumps up from the couch, her tensed shoulders relaxing when she recognizes her friend.

 

“ _You’re dead!_ ” Shizuo growls threateningly from the doorway.

 

Hastily stepping back to avoid the blond’s wrath, Shinra holds his hands up in surrender. He’s been anticipating this encounter after hearing the news from an excited Celty, but there’s little he can do to calm Shizuo’s understandable fury. “N-Now, Shizuo, I can explain if you let me!”

 

Shizuo mindlessly grabs the door as he charges in, fingers gripping the reinforced wood hard enough to indent and yanking the door from its hinges with loud protests from the metal. “Explain _after_ I kill you!”

 

“How?!” Shinra impulsively bursts.

 

Celty’s past the couch in seconds, standing between the two as Shinra cowers behind her and Shizuo bares their front door like the awkward weapon he intends to use it as. “[Wait, Shizuo, why do you want to kill Shinra?]”

 

“The asshole knew this whole time, Celty!”

 

“[Knew what?]”

 

“About my son!” Shizuo’s raised angry voice tempers slightly, his pitch hitching sadly with the mention of the boy.

 

Celty’s grip on her phone falters as the smoke rising from the hole in her neck triples its density. Her shoulders shake as her body shares her friend’s pain and anger. Neck expelling a rush of smoke, the shadowy substance smacks against and sticks to the ceiling, spelling out; “ _What?!_ ”

 

The dullahan spins around sharply at the young man previously latched to her back for safety. “[How could you keep that from Shizuo!?]”

 

Shinra’s eyes widen as he presents his hands again. “Ah, well, Celty, my love, you see, Izaya confided in me and it just wasn’t my place to tell!”

 

Celty’s fingers tap furiously against her keypad, auto-correct fixing her egregious errors. “[ _Izaya?!_ What’s _Izaya_ got to do with this?!]”

 

“He’s Delic’s biological mother, of course.”

 

Celty’s phone finally clatters to the floor, her hands raising as if she had a head or helmet on to clutch. With nothing to grip, her fingers twitch wildly as her mind whirls with the information. After a beat, one of her hands flies from her space to punch the brunet’s arm as her shadows grope the floor for her phone. Forgoing _how_ at the moment, she demands the more pressing information.

 

“[How could you?! I thought you considered Shizuo your friend!]”

 

“I do, my love! But Izaya is too and he also makes threats to my person!”

 

Celty’s shoulders are still shaking when she turns back around to face Shizuo. Presenting her phone, she steps to the side. “[Make it count, but don’t do permanent damage.]”

 

Shinra takes two fearful steps back as Shizuo advances on him, door raising above his head. “N-Now, Shizuo, if you knock me out or give me brain damage, I’ll never be able to tell you anything you want to know!”

 

* * *

 

Shizuo has never been too great with pulling his punches, so it’s an absolute miracle that Shinra only finds bruises, to his skin _and_ a few ribs, when he gives himself a once-over. Celty drops a bag of frozen peas on his lap, earning a startled yelp from the brunet as he tries to relax on the couch. “Thank you, Celty,” he whimpers.

 

“Talk,” Shizuo demands, pointer finger aggressively poking Shinra’s chest and pressing his sore back against the couch.

 

“Where should I start?”

 

“I don’t care,” he sighs, taking a seat in the armchair. “I just wanna know what the hell’s been going on this whole time. What have I missed, how screwed up has Izaya made our kid?”

 

Shinra’s head cocks, thinking over everything and placing the bag of peas against a growing bump on his scalp. “That’s a little unfair, though totally founded.”

 

“Delic’s probably suffering some negative effects from absentee parents and emotional neglect, but probably no worse than some other children with a similar home life.” Shinra offers his opinion easily as Shizuo clenches his jaw with a new wave of anger coursing through him. “I did try to persuade Izaya to tell you from the very start, I swear! But, you know how stubborn he is.”

 

The blond exhales from his nostrils, but remains quiet, so Shinra continues unperturbed. “Let me think… I believe Izaya was aware of his pregnant condition a month in. He came to me ranting about this and that, but mostly you, of course. He was, without a doubt then, going to terminate it, but, well. Obviously he changed his mind somewhere along the way! And then he suddenly disappeared for about a year or so.” Why the brunet had goes without saying.

 

Shinra stretches out his leg, resting his foot on the coffee table, as he places the warming peas on his knee. “That’s really all I know, Shizuo, honestly.”

 

Massaging his temples, Shizuo sighs and leans back in his chair. “Have _you_ ever met my kid?”

 

“Oh no!” Shinra denies too cheerfully. “Izaya has told me, directly to my face, that he considers me unsafe!”

 

“He’s right about things on occasion.”

 

“Ooh, ouch,” the brunet jokes. “I never wanted to get involved with your mess. This has always been between you and Izaya, Shizuo.”

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. Shinra’s not wrong there, even if a whole swath of issues could’ve been avoided had he blabbed.

 

“If you’re asking my opinion, Delic really needs your intervention. Izaya’s always bragging about his achievements and talents, but he’ll still offhandedly mention things like Delic running off or getting in conflicts with the other schoolchildren instead of making friends.”

 

With a dismissive wave, Shinra says, “Izaya doesn’t want to emulate his parents’ behavior with him, but he ended up doing so anyway, if you ask me.”

 

Shizuo’s unfocused gaze narrows with the blasély presented information. The little he does know about Izaya’s childhood isn’t great, but with the new perspective on their situation, Shizuo feels as if he’s found the informant’s weak spot. He’s not going to utilize it to manipulate Izaya, that’d be something the bastard would do. But with it, he has somewhere to start discussion with and begin steering the brunet towards reevaluating his thoughts on their situation. Maybe if he highlights Delic suffering the same issues Izaya probably had as a child, he’ll be more open to helping fix his mistakes or just finally step out of Shizuo’s way.

 

Idly noticing the nearest clock, the blond stands back up. “I gotta go. I promised Delic that we’d go out to dinner before furniture shopping.”

 

Celty taps his shoulder as he passes the couch towards the awkwardly replaced door. “[Let me give you both a ride.]”

 

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.” Shizuo’s lip twitches into a soft smile, dropping with a last minute thought. Tilting slightly to the left to peer over Celty’s shoulder, he says, “Shit, do the twins know?”

 

From his spot on the couch, Shinra chuckles. “No way, Izaya would have a heart-attack if those two dragged Delic off somewhere!”

 

* * *

 

For better or for worse, life has been so rambunctious and lively ever since Delic changed his surname and dyed his hair. People seem to recognize him without him ever really introducing himself to them previously. He doesn’t know how he feels about that, though it is kind of nice. Cool even.

 

“There he is!” One of them shout, hopping from foot to foot before taking off at full speed. The strange young woman yanks her cohort along with her, passing through the school gates despite the signs warning that only students and their guardians are allowed to enter the premises.

 

Delic’s barely crossed the grounds when the two young women charge up to him, blocking his path. With one hand loosely holding onto his schoolbag, his nose crinkles with suspicion. They look familiar, oddly enough. From where is on the tip of his tongue, waiting for that little kick to fall from his lips.

 

“Hey there! You’re Shizuo’s kid right? You look just like him!” The one woman with braided hair says like a speeding train as the other with short hair quietly says, “Hello.”

 

“Uhm, yeah?” He awkwardly responds, pulling out one ear-bud to hear the bigger breasted woman better.

 

“I knew it! We wanna meet Yuuhei, you can totally help us, right? We can give you something in return if you like! Candy, toys, electronics, I can even kick a bully’s ass for you if you want!”

 

Delic’s eyes narrow as he processes the talkative young woman with ease, never more grateful of his listening habits before. “Yuuhei?” He asks to clarify.

 

“Meet Yuuhei. Please.” The other one calmly requests.

 

“Yuuhei _Hanejima_?” Delic tries to guess. “I don’t _know_ him, sorry ladies.”

 

“ _What?!_ ” The one with the long braid shouts as she grips her head between her hands, startling some of the children, teachers, and parents nearby. “Of course you do, he’s your uncle right?!”

 

It’s Delic’s turn to scare the others, voice yelling with shocked surprise. “ _What?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? (Honestly, I'm not totally sure how I feel about this chapter.) Bad chapter title is bad.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	26. Observance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya has that heart-attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make a very minor correction in the previous chapter. I used teen to refer to Kururi instead of woman. Since Izaya and Shizuo are both thirty in this fic, the twins are obviously not teenagers anymore. With my sincerest apologies, I'll admit that I could've proofread that chapter a bit more to be closer to my usual standards.

“You’re lying,” Delic spits, his eyes narrowing suspiciously on the two young women.

 

“We’re not! Hasn’t Shizuo told you yet?!” The one with the braid all but shouts while the other quietly states, “Not lies.”

 

“My dad would’ve told me if I was related to a celebrity!” The blond tries to object, but the more he puts things together, the more it seems plausible. His father had said that his uncle was a busy actor and, though most would recognize famous actors, he did react oddly to Delic’s preference towards Yuuhei Hanejima in film.

 

“Surprise, fan.” The short haired woman says softly, most of her sentence missing.

 

“Ugh!” The other brunette exhales with an exaggerated lean back, hopping back forward to hug her twin. “Kururi, you’re so smart! That’s probably why he doesn’t know yet! It was probably meant to be a surprise and we just ruined it!”

 

Delic’s posture relaxes as he reaches the same conclusion, his upset melting away. If the two women are correct, then he’s gonna be so nervous to meet his uncle that his heart might burst! But if they’re wrong, then he can shrug off the mild disappointment.

 

“Who are you two, anyway?”

 

“Oh!” The excitable one pips. “I’m Mairu Orihara and this is my sister, Kururi!”

 

Delic’s eyes widen exponentially with shock before he schools his expression. “Orihara? As in you’re related to Izaya Orihara?”

 

“Apologies,” Kururi says.

 

“Yeah, try not to judge us by our shitty older brother!” Mairu waves. “We’re just _hu~ge_ Yuuhei fans!”

 

Delic’s lips press together with Mairu’s blasé admittance. Everyone, from acquaintances to _family_ , was quick to describe Izaya with foul and otherwise negative descriptors. Each new one seemed to hurt him more to hear than the last. “So that’s why you two look so familiar,” he says with nothing else occupying the tip of his tongue.

 

“I’m sure your dad already gave you a whole fascinating talk about our Nii-san!” Mairu shrugs.

 

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. Kururi watches his face closely, examining the way his mouth pinches and eyebrows sit down-turned sadly.

 

“Nii-san,” the short haired brunette says suddenly. Mairu’s attention whips to her, her head tilting as she processes something Delic doesn’t hear in the young woman’s words. “Hm,” she hums as her eyes swim back to him, her fingers raising to stroke her chin.

 

The school bell chimes, alerting them all of the time. Delic’s eyes narrow as he considers how to spend his little amount of free-time before he has to meet up with his father. He’s supposed to wait at the school, but if he shoots his parent a message saying he walked to the nearby fast-foodery, then he won’t be in trouble. Especially since his father keeps insisting that Delic point out places that he wants to go.

 

“Hey, Miss Mairu and Miss Kururi, would you two like to talk some? There’s a MacDonald’s three blocks away.”

 

The two twins openly stare at Delic’s face, gleaming something from his slight smirk and sharp eyes crinkling the corners of his lids.

 

They share a quick look before turning back, Mairu pepping, “Sure!” She doesn’t hesitate, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as Kururi holds out her hand for him to take, which he does, sandwiching himself between the two older women as they walk off.

 

* * *

 

Izaya’s cellphone beeps twice, indicating that he’s received an image attachment. Snapping the flip phone open with a flick of his wrist, the photo loads up fairly quickly for a disposable phone and Izaya’s feet freeze their leisurely gait on the sidewalk. His throat releases a choked sound and his eyes widen as he examines the photo in vain for evidence against its legitimacy.

 

But no, that _is_ Mairu and Kururi with Delic in a MacDonald’s.

 

Izaya’s brain throws out every other thing he’s been thinking about to fixate on this new situation. What on earth were the twins telling his son about him right at this very moment? What had they told him before? He still doesn’t know Shizuo’s exact words and the blond would have been far more gentle and delicate with the subject matter in effort not to scare Delic than the twins ever would be.

 

The brunet’s heart seizes with panic as he tries to manage his expression and posture. He’s far less worried about the duo enacting revenge on him for keeping Delic a secret once they find out, which they absolutely will. He has zero doubts about that for certain. They’ve probably just gone to pester the poor boy about meeting with Kasuka, fueled by the true rumors about Shizuo’s child, but one thing will turn into another quickly.

 

First things first, he’ll have to warn Namie about expecting company. Then, he’ll have to ensure that Mari double-checks the sugar intake of whatever grotesque mess the boy’s bought for himself at the fast-food restaurant for the special occasion.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for the food, Miss Mairu.”

 

“Polite,” Kururi states, patting the top of the boy’s head as her sister walks ahead of them to find a table to sit at.

 

“You’re sure that Shizuo won’t mind that you’re eating without him?” The other brunette asks before plopping down in a seat.

 

Delic’s eyes wander from the young woman to his cheeseburger, already partially unwrapped in his hand and missing a large bite. He shakes his head swiftly, blond hair fluffing. “He won’t mind what he won’t know,” Delic says before another big bite.

 

“ _Pffft,_ ” Mairu snorts, lips parting with a laugh. Kururi gives her sister a pointed look as she takes a seat alongside of her, her brown eyes glimmering with a slightly exposed ego.

 

“So, you said that you had questions?” Mairu asks once Delic takes his seat on the opposite side of the table.

 

“Yeah,” the blond talks awkwardly around his burger. His phone buzzed against his leg a mere minute ago, so he has to focus on eating first if he ever wants to see that second cheeseburger. “I just wanted to know more about Izaya.”

 

“What about him?” Mairu reasonably retorts. There’s so much to start with, they’d be here all night if he can’t narrow it down.

 

“Uhm...” Delic’s nose wrinkles, his thumb idly wiping away some ketchup that’s smeared against the corner of his mouth. “Everyone keeps saying that he’s dangerous and that his job is scary, but not really why. It’s frustrating.”

 

The twins watch carefully as the little blond’s eyes unfocus on his food in thought, a sad twinge appearing on his lips before another absentminded bite.

 

“Well,” Mairu starts, “Iza-nii’s an informant for some Yakuza primarily. He’s always been into all kinds of shady shit!”

 

“That’s just what everyone else keeps telling me,” Delic dismisses with his mouth half-full.

 

Mairu’s head tilts as she turns to share a unique look with Kururi. “You know what Yakuza are, right?” She asks, once she turns her attention back to the boy.

 

“Yeah,” he shrugs one shoulder, “so?”

 

“Yeah so?!” Mairu shouts, hands slapping onto the small table and startling Delic back in his seat, though not enough to stop him from taking another bite of his meal, and the other patrons of the restaurant.

 

“Iza-nii,” Kururi states suddenly.

 

Mairu’s head whirls back on her twin, loudmouth agape. “I know-- _Oh!_ ” She freezes, eyes on Kururi’s presented phone, the object tilted enough to keep the screen from Delic’s view.

 

“[ _Family conversation. Now._ ]” The text message reads in bold, black lettering. An address following the words that they both presume they’re expected at.

 

Mairu’s eyes narrow at the message. “Hmph,” is all she expresses, keeping her tongue to herself. They both know that they’re being watched now, their suspicions practically being confirmed by the text.

 

“I think we have to go now, actually.” The brunette with the braided hair says, standing up from her chair. She makes a swift motion towards Delic’s schoolbag, snatching it before he can swallow and verbally protest. Rummaging around for a slip of blank paper and a writing utensil, she quickly scrawls her and Kururi’s phone numbers down for him. “Stay in touch, okay? C’mon, Kururi!”

 

The short haired woman gets up much more slowly, turning around to give Delic another pat on his head. “Eyes, not Shizuo’s,” is all she murmurs before running off to join her twin.

 

Delic watches the strange duo leave in a hurry, stuffing his mouth with his final bite and puffing one of his cheeks out. He turns as he chews, giving his now disorganized schoolbag a once-over before shrugging a shoulder and closing it without attempting to clean it. Slinging it back over his shoulder as he stands up, he balls up his garbage and leisurely enjoys his milkshake as he walks to the trash bins by the doors.

 

A nearby motorcycle roars uniquely, sounding almost like a whining horse as it approaches the curb. Stepping to stand in front of the large windows, Delic offers the familiar rider a friendly wave as his father gets off of the bike.

 

Shizuo runs a hand through his mussed hair after removing his shadowy helmet, his eyes drawn to the windows as Celty waves back. His lip twitches upwards as he instantly spots the boy and, more importantly, the condiment stains around Delic’s mouth.

 

“I’ll see you later, Celty.” He says, tipping his head back to the dullahan. “I gotta go make sure Izaya doesn’t get on my ass later about cholesterol or whatever shit later.”

 

“[Anytime.]” She types first. “[Bring him around sometime, I’ll make sure to keep Shinra contained.]”

 

Shizuo waves over his shoulder as he heads into the restaurant. Delic’s at his side in seconds, his hand latching onto one of Shizuo’s to uselessly drag him towards the ordering counter. “Can we eat now? I’m so hungry!”

 

Shizuo tries to keep his expression neutral, playing along with his son. “So hungry, huh?”

 

“Starving!” Delic says dramatically, his body standing slanted at a ninety degree angle as he fails to tug his father forward.

 

“Do you know what you want?”

 

“A cheeseburger! And some fries, please!”

 

“You’re sure you want another cheeseburger?” The older blond asks, face finally faltering with twinges of humor.

 

Delic’s eyes snap open with shock and his hand releases his parent’s, gravity taking its immediate toll. He almost sprawls onto the floor and spills the remainder of his beverage, if it weren’t for Shizuo’s quick grab to his wrist.

 

“Woah, you ok--”

 

“I’m sorry!” The little boy’s mouth runs as his face floods with stress. “I really am just hungry, I didn’t mean to lie!”

 

“ _Hey,_ ” Shizuo interjects authoritatively and Delic freezes, mouth closing with a frown.

 

“I’m not mad, it’s okay.” He says softly, releasing his grip on the boy’s wrist to smooth fingers through Delic’s hair. Be it from his words or his actions, the smaller blond relaxes. “How about you get something smaller though. Two burgers _is_ a bit much.”

 

“ _How_ did you know?” Delic demands to know with a pout. He had eaten quickly enough, or so he thought, and he had thrown out the evidence!

 

Shizuo’s nose wrinkles and saves verbalizing the obvious to wipe some remaining blots of ketchup off of Delic’s mouth with his thumb, holding out the digit with the damning evidence.

 

“Dammit!”

 

“Language,” Shizuo protests halfheartedly, ruffling Delic’s hair with his other hand. “C’mon, you can get nuggets or somethin’ instead.”

 

“What about another milkshake?” The boy tests.

 

“Sure,” Shizuo shrugs, walking towards the line and missing Delic pumping a fist behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone keeps asking, "Where's Izaya?" and "What's Izaya doing?" as if y'all don't already know he's being his usual fucking cowardly self.
> 
> Bad chapter title is, yet again, bad. Seriously though, I've never had to write Mairu and Kururi before either! I haven't bothered with SH or whatever the continuation of Durarara!! is titled, so any details that have changed from the time lapse I can't and won't really consider.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


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